Lost Creek Hollow mezcal

the dens clustered beyond the waterfall was where crowfeather and silvertongue had made their home, conceived their children, and it was where she had birthed the two. now one was lost and the other — silvertongue had not yet come to full acceptance of her limb's missing nature, that it was reality, that she could look as many times as she wished and the leg would not appear; she lay listless and fitful, but determined in all things to recover, to be more. to be whole. autumn leaves fluttered upon a breeze with winter in its spine; the glassblue eyes looked for @Shadowpup, and then she uttered a crooning call for the girl, and she wished them to speak alone. i have so much to explain to you.