Shadowwyn Moor been on the low lately the feds hate me

the mastiff spat a fat loogie off to the side, which was her answer.

"huck 'em, ih they did." wrinkles curved in an open-mawed grin, tongue lolling out. her panting resembled a breathy laugh. "it'sh hinter. they ain't gonna make it oher the hountainsh. hacksh there, hood rare. nah." and another, noisy and wet clearing of the throat.

"ih they ain't shtill 'ere, they'sh heen chashed ohh. or dishpershed, ih ol' tarshnout'sh kicked the hucket."