Otatso Wetlands Ornery lying ba***d [m]

Lonesome was playing an odd game of checkers with a frog, where they both snapped for any flies that lifted off the swamp.

Lonesome was losing. She felt like she did that a lot these days. The frog eventually scattered and she sighed as the smell of wolf blood met her nostrils, spinning around to see a battered agouti woman.

’llo, are you people attracted to the swamp? She asked, tipping her head to the unconscious man.

Youre the second one I’ve found. More like the woman had found them, but Lonesome wasn’t about to admit that. The coywolf girl pushed herself up into a sit, face pressed into a stress grimace.

I don’t know if I have enough golden flower stuff for you both.