Lion Head Mesa freshly brewed misery

There was warmth.

Anaelle needed no convincing to choose a patch of furs to rest her body upon, though she was rather swallowed by them. She did not reach out for meat, not yet, not while she still needed to speak.

Oh, I have always liked the..the plants! Using them to help! And, I do love to care for children. Like Mother Goose! There was cheer in her voice as she spoke, though she knew not how she knew her own skills. They just rolled off her tongue like pebbles off a well beaten path, the thickness of her accent like kicked up dust.

Her mouth watered, but her jeweled eyes did not leave the long legged.