Bearclaw Valley well me, i like plastics, and digital foils

i would die for her to be named by him! so cute!

astara sniffed each. rosehip -- the smell crinkled her nose, burning. acrid. tough.

the moss she had seen before along riverbanks.

she remained prone as the healer set to work, a poor conversationalist and equally poor patient. luckily, evien had enough words to spare between the two of them. his query was met only with one slow blink -- she knew her name, as did those in the past.. but much like her mother, that past was dead and buried deep.

there was only ursus now.