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

did she not witness it as a kindness?

maybe she had no desire to go beyond their little kingdom. maybe she was only being polite in her own return. he would not seize upon the inklings of toxic masculinity to blame her for something that did not even exist.

not long, he confessed and found his self restraint waning to some degree. one nail sunk softly into a part of unworked clay. as if he held a child’s fascination with it.

there was a large hunt, many had gathered but i found la muerte to my taste. so why look elsewhere? your handiwork might have made a fine trade. it still might do so. idle praise.

it was a huntsman’s eye upon her work now. what could they trade it for? herbs and maybe fattier meats.