Bramblepoint It comes in waves, the letting go

You don't want to know your future? Who you'll love, or how you might die? Fennec asked, mostly facetiously. There was a grain of curiosity there. She didn't know that she had ever met anyone who had flat out refused a reading and she wondered if he would be her first.

If she was offering, that is.

I have one. Fennec tapped the tattered, well-used hide she'd set aside, then grabbed it in her teeth and spread it next to the plant. She'd gather some soil along with it to increase the chances that it would survive the transplanting. The pelt had clearly seen better days, but it had proven invaluable in carting plants back and forth.