Wessex
She smells the kid before she sees him and freezes for a moment, paws deep in dirt. After a moment of intent listening, the whips around to see who it might be (not that she knows the Huntsman’s scent). Finding only a sweaty, grubby kid far enough away to not be any danger, the fox doesn’t take long to resume her digging, moving forward towards Vi’s back. There’s a rhythmic spurting of dark dirt now, punctuated by floppy, projectile plants. For what it’s worth, it does seem to be aware of the human, merely unthreatened by one so small.
Wessex hopes it isn’t too telling. She’s trying to blend in here and get the job done. Would a true fox have run by now? Here? In the Celestine? The fox scampers to one side a bit as the boy draws closer, trying to keep some distance between the two of them.
Wessex hopes it isn’t too telling. She’s trying to blend in here and get the job done. Would a true fox have run by now? Here? In the Celestine? The fox scampers to one side a bit as the boy draws closer, trying to keep some distance between the two of them.
What is life? A madness
What is life? An illusion, a shadow, a story
What is life? An illusion, a shadow, a story
