Fox's Glade the very flower you chose that day

tehehe

tiqiak halts, her amber eyes lifting to meet the voice that rolls toward her like molten metal. she takes in the summer-coated figure, his presence large, and feels the subtle tension of being observed so openly. the bundle of dried muskox shifts in her jaws before she gently sets it down.

"i am no lanzadoii," she says, "i am of the muskox grounds. the bundle is not for trade, if that is your thought."