Arrow Lake and he floats outside my prison window

stigmata had not been idle while the beast was gone. appraisingly, thorn looked over the delve in the earth made by stigmata's hand. in the summer, such a depth would be child's play -- but they were in the height of winter, and thorn knew that earth could be harder than stone once the temperature plummeted.

while stigmata gave a moment's pause, thorn lent his own efforts to their endeavor. in a few heaves he hauled as much rock and soil as he could, and then, once the male had recovered his breath, the beast would step back and return back to the carcass for more.