Noctisardor Bypass mary's child

A call for Mahler.

Mahler, Mahler, Mahler.

Sequoia wished she’d never met him. She wished her children would come home. She wished she could search for them.

Her leg would need more time. She still couldn’t put more than an ounce of weight on it without stumbling and writhing on the ground in pain. So for the most part, she kept her rear left left tucked to her belly. Hunting was nigh impossible, so scavenging and asking for help had been her only sources of food. It showed in the outline of her ribs.

They’ve all gone. Left without a word, she said. Sequoia would spare him the details. He probably wouldn’t even care to hear them.