Hushed Willows get me drinkin' that moonshine

ha! my daddy wasn't much for it either, 'less we could make a day out of it. get on down to the creek before sundown. that hardly ever happened, though. that man slept until the coyotes started crawlin'.
something unspoken lied between he and kyrell — a shared knowledge, perhaps. long-buried faces and memories of men that were no longer, in one way or another.
we'll go down to the keep. s'what we call that one big ass lake. hope you like the taste of trout, he mirrors the crooked grin with the lopsided cut of his own. it ain't easy, but i think you'll get the hang of it. i didn't call you a punk for nothin'.