Bearclaw Valley roti

She could see very little in to the hole that had formed, and moved to make it bigger to accomodate. Perhaps weasel her way in. Before Stryx could get far, she saw movement inside — as well as shafts of light, cluing her in that this was not the only way to enter.

There was someone inside, and their demand made her withdraw temporarily. She called back: I smelled rot, and herbs. I was going to clean it up. They were of the same mind, not that Stryx was aware.

Another punch came through the snow, widening the hole by a scant margin. The skeptic poked her face in again and it wore its usual scowl.

You going to stand there, or help?