Bramblepoint It comes in waves, the letting go

You can help pile some dirt with it, if you want. The dirt here is a little softer than what I have back home. Fennec flexed her paws in it, feeling the loamy dampness that cooled her paws. The spot she'd picked had trees, at least, but the foliage must not be nearly as dense as the canopy here. There didn't seem to be near as much leaf litter to work with.

The secret is treating any fortunes you don't like as bullshit. Just because some stranger tells you it's fate doesn't make them right. Fennec twitched her tail and sat down, letting him take over the digging for a moment. She probably shouldn't be decrying her own 'trade' but she didn't think what she said conflicted with it. Just because you treated it like a lie didn't make it one.

Her mind went to a tree, rotted to the center, then cut uncomfortably away. Sometimes fortune tellers fucked up a reading.

Besides, it isn't that exact. I don't tell you what to do, I just answer your questions. There's nothing wrong with needing help and taking advice from where you can get it. At least the universe is unbiased. Without even thinking, she began to try and peg him down. Realist, helpful, maybe a bit pessimistic since he assumed a bad fortune. Or at least cautious. She was willing to bet he took his word seriously, and the pack scent he wore was one he was pretty happily settled in.

She could do a lot with that. But she also got the sense he wasn't the type to dwell on questions.