Porcupine Ridge I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

She grew satisfied with that. Worthwhile. Worth keeping. Worth having close. The feeling ran down her spine, the most imperceptible of shivers rippling through her body. Smile tore wider, she turned on a dime and resumed the pace forward, though not before swiping his muzzle with her tail on the way by.

..Do you keep many close? She inquired as she dropped low to the ground, unearthing more roots and adding them to a pile. She surveyed patches of undergrowth, scrying eyes knew what to look for.

She did not keep many close. Not by choice but by nature. Much as she tried, it was like sifting through sand with a strainer, hoping some of it wouldn't inevitably sliiiip through. Insanity in its very own definition. Perhaps trouble was the same, even if motivated by different patterns and thoughts.

She listened, was listening, much as she moved ahead and traipsed through undergrowth in erratic steps, here one moment, there the next. Catch up, you're slacking as my body guard. N' carry those. She called, popping up from the bracken and gesturing with a quick prompt of her head towards her pile. Giving orders came oh so naturally.