Phoenix Maplewood What if the witches wrote the book

"I don't see why not." His words filed out smoothly, unscathed by the sincerity of his orders; why not indulge himself a little? Besides, it was uncertain when next meal would be. "I've learned never to pass up the offer of a free meal," he quipped, a breathy laugh escaping his maw as he trotted forward to tentatively nibble the navy berry. The taste exploded in his mouth; a burst of fruity flavour which earned the strange woman a look of upmost delight from the muddied fellow.

"Goddamnit,"  he grinned as his tongue slid out to swipe round his lips. "These would pass for a rabbit any day! Though they aren't nearly as big. Sorry, I'm off on a tangent." With a sheepish glance at the female, he morphed his speach into an introduction, his tail buffing the ground. "I'm Arch, by the way." He'd have to make this trip worthwhile if he was to earn the respect of Heda, yet rushing would most likely blow his chances of seeming anywhere near the innocence of a traveler.