Ocean's Breath Plateau john barleycorn was dead

a fox. a strange looking fox, but just a fox. aditya flicked an ear backward at his coarse language, but merely gave a shrug, shaking his head ruefully. damned if i know, adi responded, looking to the peaks, dark bulwarks against the night. but it can't be good, whatever it is.

he then turned his full attention to the creature, brows raised. and who are you? he queried. you should be more careful, sneaking around wolves like that. some of us aren't as friendly as my daughter and i.

he had really no quarrel with foxes. they were smelly, sure, and tended to steal food. much worse in small bands. but just one? the worst the young man could be was a thorn in his side; the best, perhaps, a friend.

one corner of his mouth quirked up, ever so slightly, at that. desperation made strange bedfellows.