Two Rivers Isle they call me seymour butts cause i get mo' ass than most

@Ines @Matteo

by this point, it felt like mama nature was trying to tear her a new one. her heat, coupled with the heat, resulted in gun lumbering through the wooded parts of the isle with a dry tongue, seeking a chiller and chiller shade.

eventually, she toppled at the lip of some denmouth, opening too narrow for her french door shoulders to fit through. still, the air within was earthy and cooling, the way nothing above ground could be...

without checking whose it was and whether it was occupied, the mastiff proceeded to back up her posterior as far into the hole as it could go, before melting into a puddle of hot wrinkles, effectively Ever Given-ing the den for both exit and entry.