we_dont_fly: (thoats)
Tars Tarkas, Jeddak ([personal profile] we_dont_fly) wrote 2015-07-23 01:34 am (UTC)

"Best you don't coddle them all. Then none of them will want to work."

Nitwit buries its face in Edgar's chest. One of the grown thoats lips at Edgar's hair. It smells like moss and dust and big animal.

Tars comes over and leans on one of the rocks they've strung the fence lines between. "They like you."

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