Lion Head Mesa gifts

could be a gray fox!

A strange feeling was rising, a hum like a bee’s hover as she ambles into the room filled with riches, adorning objects, and cascades of furs newly stretched and dried with the direct order to take from them. They were things she’d seen only in nobles’ rooms and laid out by her paws when arranging furnishings. A lavish life she would help to uphold, but it was not hers to live.

And the feeling was quickly identified as unease when she lay her eyes upon a creamy pelt that had rippled when she stepped past. She reaches to stroke a paw over the immaculate, silken strands. Beside it a much deeper umber stole burns for attention and she clutches at it greedily so she can feel its coarseness under her skin.  They both could be her possessions.

It shouldn’t be so hard to choose a fur.

She drops the searing pelt and grabs idly at something in passing, a neutral gray, distinct in no way. Something to replace the old furs on her bed.

She came alongside Toula, bowing reverently with the pelt slung across her shoulder. “Thank you, my Queen. When I feel its velvet I will think of you.”