Dragoncrest Cliffs all my troubles will hang on your trigger

oh, it hurt -- but loko carried on. men weren't made to cry about things, even if they were sapphique men, which loko viewed as the superior sort from those beastly wild men and their brutish unseemlyness.

he peered at the bone as it was placed in the sand. so peculiar it looked, resting between the pairs' terrestrial paws. what order of wolves was it that went to the sea once and never came out? did they speak like them, did they love their children, did they have their own culture?

loko's thoughts galloped on, halted only by chacal's playful idea. a grin broke his bruised face. dat be a great idea. and if may'be she can't catch us, she t'row it.