Lion Head Mesa Medusoid Ostreatus

For @Toula <3

In these chilly winter months, warmth was hard to come across outside of piles of pelts and the embrace of another—neither of which Machiavelli had right now unfortunately.

And so, the cold-blooded dog lay lizard-like atop a section of the mesa doused in the midday sun, seemingly engrossed in...something. He seemed content, although this particular section of rock was not as private nor hard to access as he would have preferred for his work—his leg saw to that.