Cricket Creek Bog west coast blues

redhawk, he’s heard that name before. back when he first came here, he was confronted by one of them. something, of the redhawks, that’s what she said. the name slipped his mind. “you live at the plateau?” he asked. he wondered if they would be a problem. he didn’t want to quarrel with the neighbors that was for sure.

he looked down at the roof placed before him. an awful feeling rose in his throat. after his recovery from the cougar incident he never wanted to see another herb in his life. “barely,” he weakly replied. at this point he was on the ground. his energy was slowly draining.