Bramblepoint eighty-fifth

senmut knew some reach of the moon tribes here in the enclave of their wilderness, but his contact directly with them had been very brief.

he was thus intrigued when attention was brought to a man standing beyond the fringes of their camp, tall and the hue of fine linen, though rent by the life of a guardian.

he made the assumption of this one's origins; he raised a paw in welcoming motion. "we are peaceful emissaries. will you speak with us?"