Bearclaw Valley I'd never want once from the cherry tree

pupils slowly dilated, a shark with blood-scent trailing through forbidden saltwater. "i heard them shouting and yipping. very rude of them to punctuate a wedding like that. freeloaders."
his words were light; his voice was not, the melonii eyes turned away from cole in slow deliberate scan of their horizon. "let's go get one of them," he grunted, trying to stay on theme; "a present for dolce and rala. as for the kids, i'm certain bearclaw valley will be home to a new scad of princesses and knights before long."
the idea was more than a little endearing, despite its baseline horror; dozens of children running out into the meadow to stampede elk, for instance.