Sun Mote Copse the shepherd

storytellers and traders.

laughter filled the back of her throat like a blissful honey. she recalled trading at the hunt, being too nervous to join parties that would drop great beasts but more than willing to swap this for that.

seal bones. she wished for more and she remembered those coastal hunters with warmth in her.

only this was no coast.

i only wander to learn, to watch and to trade. she had no joy in the simple act of wayward walking anymore. too many of her youngest days had been spent in motion.

you do not know my name, though! chirped like a proper spring bird. still you offer the copse to me in sharing. it was rather good that she was not the nefarious sort, no? perhaps she ought to stay here to be watchful for those.