[SE] Pickled, dried, salted, smoked

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Grateful for the change in topic, not wanting and willing to aid the solemnity any longer, the youth forced another smile along her features, adjusting everything in her basket in order to settle the restless flicker going through her fingers. “Occasionally. A lot more wryms are finding themselves there,” for whatever reason – Lena would guess general mischief. “Some younger ursur,” potentially some bout of sickness wandering through the outer regions of Halo – where the cold could churn so many deadly notations.

She paused, wondering, in all her curiosity, of some of the sea creatures she’d yet to meet in the enclosures. “Have you ever seen a tumsea?”

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm