Stone Circle I slithered here from Eden

   Moss, the nomad, who had roamed from one pack to the next, collecting stories and sharing their own, had a knack for finding unexpected kindredship in the vast, lonely world they all called home. On this particular evening, he found such a connection in the shape of a stranger swathed in soft, ash-colored hues and the deep, earthy browns of flourishing nature. Growing things, life, and warmth. The fierceness of a mother, the camaraderie of a sister, all the shaping to be a true friend.

Yes, Ma'am, Moss replied, their words carrying a sigh of relief like sinking into the embrace of one's family after a long, weary day.

I promise you, Miss, I didn't cross your border. I don't wish any harm toward your pack, They continued, their voice growing more assured. By the looks of it, though, I wouldn't have much luck even if I had tried. He added a soft jest, accompanied by a brief, uneasy glance at the giant, monster man again.