Permafrost Hollows watermelon

this laugh was higher, unobstructed, the lady of the mountain raising her head high, hand on her chest.

oh, but who would zare? punctuated by flexing of the raised hand, five alabaster blades revealed as a show of power, of status, of right.

ah, but non, ee am not un tyrant, mon cher rêveur. she lowered her weapons. ee simply wish ma claim be respect-ed, as ee shall respect ma neighbors'. tell zhose wizhout a, ah, pakh that only radi-ont deazh* awaits zhem 'ere. tell zhose of lesser kingdoms, zhat la Reine du Feumont is a good neigh-bour.

does zhat please yeau, loup?

*radiant death