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

landlocked. dry.

agrippina imagined karpos had never been condemned to an island, let alone an island which had been formed by volcanic death.

three kilometers long. eight hundred meters wide.

a prison, open to sea air. landlocked was not a word she had ever known.

realizing too late that her paws curled with anger into clay, squeezing it, agrippina made a light exclamation and moved back. wiping palms on the earth, her stare trained down once more. if you think it can be traded, take what you desire from this store. i will make more.

all in service of those above. all in the end of preserving her own unloved hide.