Nova Peak every dollar earned was already spent

Prancing amongst tines in the gloaming;
the imp busily combs sediment puddles for wild onions, the sharp retribution of its infamous tang surprises him ever so slightly. Astraeus nurtures a new aeipathy for horticulture; hunkering to cultivate his own little Eden in the crotch of the peaks. Cradling grimy onions ( while salivating irritatingly over the pungency and savour ), he waggles gingerly down a scree. It's not but a blink until he cuts into the mossy path where an elfin girl stands, reveling; mellowed.

He instead growls, mistaking her for an overgrown, vicous gnawer. Frugal with his fiddlethings; he hope to shoo the rat away before it can snap up a meager onion, nary! Betwixt kneading his teeth into the grasses did he see she was a youth like him. She'd strayed from all the adults to the foothills? 

And why hasn't a bird of prey eaten her yet? Maybe no meal that infinitesimal is that meriting.

"oh, hey shawty. sorry for growlin' at you. where's your mommy? you should go to your mommy," the star-stag gibes, letting the wet onions slide of his tongue with a plip in the swampy soil, bemire. He edges closer, a pause;
the elder woman's aroma he had crossed informally before turns the cogs of memory ... did she have children? His olive gaze flits to her feet. Other than their twin mudcaked mitts it appeared that the girl carries the first pillar in her stone collection. "you a weirdo who likes rocks? i know a place wid biiiiggg rocks. not to brag, but it's bigger than your rock. wanna come see? i have a garden there. we can get you less rocks with spit on them. your rock has spit on it."