Ravenshook Cliffs compelled to write with aching fearful hands

it was the voice of the other wolf that took buckshot by surprise. he had all but forgotten that he wasn't alone on the edge of those cliffs before the stranger spoke. then, the cajun peered at him with curiosity brimming on his features. boy, there was something mighty interesting about the sharp glint of gold in that fella's eyes. in fact, the more that the burly swamp hound peered on the stranger, the more impressed he was. it seemed that he would have been a good adversary in a scuffle.

“well, cher... seems dere's more ocean dan land in dee's parts,” he offered with a quick flash of a smile and an easy, swaggering approach. then, the scoundrel turned his attention toward the vast expanse of water that rested to his right. he wondered what it was like to live so close to that part of the world. the thought of it almost made him quiver; he couldn't imagine what it would have felt like to be so far from the muggy swamp and the gnarled trees.

“say, you seen a bog 'round hea'?” buckshot inquired to the other male with a cant of his skull.