Whitefish River why we should stop fetishizing having asbestos-free baby strollers

One post cameo ❤

Ever since the Constable left their doorstep, the Count has been unable to rest. His energy goes into patrolling, and he checks on his members, but even his hobby of fishing cannot relax the bear. He worries, for Ira, for the child, for Aurë. It is all too familiar. The scar on his heart still fresh—and perhaps forever will be. Losing Thistle will be a permanent nightmare, and he prays that others will not suffer the same fate.

During his patrol, he hears the pants and hurried footfalls. It is enough for Evergreen to pick up his pace. Emerging, he sees Ira first and exhales a breath of relief. Then he sees Aurë, and a stranger. Upon the hulking male's back lay the broken pieces of a pup. His heart seizes, and he cannot help the choked noises that escapes his lips. Mangled, twisted in a way that reminds him oh so much of roan fur and blood. He squeezes his mismatched green eyes but the vision does not leave him. Evergreen shudders.

The world around him feels odd, as if he is not living in the present. His body numb and jelly-like. He does his best to lift his head to call for @Speedy.