Lion Head Mesa freshly brewed misery

treva saw the thing.

small, thin. a wisp of the domestic. she wondered how it survived the cold of winter and the billowing winds.

the queen arrived with guard and body servant. pale fur on her shoulders, eyes smoldering with the warmth of spring. perhaps it was not proper but she thought of her husband. how he had his own little thing of an advisor, and treva wondered if she could have that here.

if the wisp of a thing was worth much, that was.

you must be freezing. her voice teetered into pity. have you come for shelter?