Emberwood i cry a lot, but i am so productive - it's an art

gun, awestruck, repeated her "whistle".

da'n girl! didn't know you 'ere that toughh! it was sincere, her tail wagging.

i 'anna hear that 'ne! hhine ish... uh...

the dog smoothed then threw back an ear.

y'shee, hhirsht day here, three yearsh ago i think, there wash thish giant lady. jusft huge. color like shitlessh shnow. hhull'a shcarsh. horrid hhershontality. no reashon at all, that shame day, she shtarted a tusshle 'ith ee! hhacked 'ee uhh. in hhact--

gun stuck out a side of her chest, to show the massive teeth marks dragging from there to her shoulder. jiggled her pecs a bit.

shee? giant! then- hhayhhe a year later, all'a hhay a'ay, o'er mountainsh, o'er hhlainsh, hhasht treesh -- i run into her again! and she'sh hhisshed. donno 'y. jusht getsh 'ee again, and that, hhell, that'sh the reashon i no longer talk good!

gun raised a paw to the mangled side of her face, missing its heavy lip. despite the tale of traumatic injury, the bitch looked pleased and happy, like a child talking about how brave they were at the dentist's.

think she'sh shtill there, in that canyon. ish 'y i don't go any hharther than these hhountainsh. kinna runnin' outta hhlaces to hhe, though.

i apologize for everything about her