Lion Head Mesa freshly brewed misery

Oh! She felt like a princess, in that moment, swept away into the long legged’s warm aura. It delighted a part of the little woman, and she followed along readily. The martingale around her thin little neck moved occasionally with her bobbing head, sliding up and down in increments.

Oui!. I am known to myself as Anaëlle. There was no other part of her name, as far as she was aware. She had always, seemingly, just been Anaëlle.

This though, was very nice. Watching as the long legged led her deeper into this place. She had better pay attention! No need to get lost, after all!