Moonspear i dont think you know me

Desdemona nodded, "we can only hope for some rain," not realizing on later months, she was wishing a death-sentence for the wilds. Though for those, especially themselves, the fact of straight-up son was simply boiling hot. Their dark fur attracted the son far more then anyone else, and while her own was not completely black, she still suffered. The guard could only imagine what Hydra, who was inky-black, how she might feel.

"Fall will be a bliss," she didn't like winter due to how hard it was to hunt, but fall, was always welcomed. Cooling to the touch, but the prey were getting ready to hibernate, but not yet hiding. The favorite, of seasons.