Cricket Creek Bog hippopotamus

it was as if he, himself, had spoken; the words rang too true, too close to his heart, and he found himself looking away, unable to find pleasure in their shared lifestyles. how he wished it could be different for anyone else. pharaoh would understand, when he was old, and desperate to put down roots. . .only to find that the roots had vanished altogether.

but then came talk of saints, and aditya shook his head, turning his eyes back to the man in the bog. nothing much, except one of their warriors attacked me in the swamp some ways south of here, he replied truthfully. unprovoked. a large, pale woman. she had the same pack-scent as you.

thus, he assumed that she was one of these 'saints'—a laughable misnomer for the white-furred behemoth. he had met few less saint-like in his life, at least on first impression.

how did you come to be with them? he asked.