Golden Glade i see it, i like it, i want it, i got it

pre-apology to whomever hops in this: half asleep, icky post ahoy! oh and don't mind ailill, he still has that new toon smell.

even as the late evening sky begins to make it's transition into night, shadows rising to come and play, the glade fails to fall under the category of gloomy. even as it's swallowed by the colors of night and moonbeams its lovely. which is a strange, ailill thinks. that a territory could be considered lovely. or maybe he was in the same awkward stage as his writer: ailill's belly is full from his most recent catch and his eyelids droop with contentedness. the mocha colored blackthorn thought about traveling a bit further but ultimately decides against it as he feels the weight of sleep pressing against him. course alters with new purpose as he pokes around the maple trees looking for a place to rest for the night — or at least sleep off the food coma.