Boartusk Heights i’m staying low, staying low, turning pages

fish.

fresh enough that the scent was not pungent in a repulsive manner. the clay perhaps helped it too. he had never seen such work before and it only drew him closer. light, long strides. as if he meant to prowl in his watching.

finally her attention found him.

do you have everything you need for your work? his voice carefully level and his gaze filled with warm interest.