Lion Head Mesa sister christian

Tavina had been liberal with the poppies, and she lay on her side, dead to the world. Only Gucci's accented tones cut through the din; she lifted her head, looked sideways, ears folding slightly backward.

She'd forgotten about him until now. Forgotten her promises to Ramesses regarding him.

Until now.

Fine, she replied, her voice dull. She shifted to face him, though remained laying down. Placed her muzzle on her forepaws and regarded him with no feeling in her face whatsoever.

The children were somewhere. Alive. Suckling. Parasites.

She pitied the wet nurse. No one but herself deserved that evil.