Wapun Meadow i'll never forget that you showed me to make art

nightcreature;

lain low, left to die. almalexia breathed in the scent of his suffering and prowled ever closer. she studied him. a youthful thing, healthy if one disregarded his wounded state. there was no sickness on him, and perhaps under the right care he would emerge whole again.

hm, she regarded him in the manner of one considering a particularly challenging trivia question. his crisis; her crossword puzzle.

to live is a privilege, the prophet said ponderously. is it not?