Qeya River sloth

lestan was blushing furiously at all this talk of babies and how old blue willow must have been. but amalia kept right ahead with it, which suggested to the man that she did not find it bad talk at all. he was reminded of how stuffily he had been raised, by pigheaded academics who still believed in magick.
maybe he was the odd one.
"well. maybe we can find you one today. i'd like to be your neighbor. and it's very nice here, though i imagine when the snow comes — hm." he tried to picture it. wouldn't the snow blanket the ground quite ravishingly right here?