Blackfeather Woods young artists have gotta starve

He rested himself on his stomach, his paws stretched before him, his paws tucked near his stomach. She watched him. It felt strange, knowing that this woman had been here the whole time, simply watching them. Leeching off of them. And what did she provide? What use was she? Nothing. And yet she remained. He was suspicious, as anyone would be. He merely chuckled at her. Next time I'll invite you, To exact what he did not know. To a torture session, to show her what would happen if she dared cross them? No. She surely must know already.

He laughed heartily. Not at the joke itself, but the mere statement. We are, aren't we? He chuckled, smiling lazily at her. But you must be no different, seeing as you decided to stay rather than leave us weird folk for some normal people,