snowdrops


Lanisen is sitting behind the hay wall in the near silent kennel, coaxing Nia to eat from a bowl of choice meat scraps.

Megren knocks triply and then lets herself in. “There’s never any dogs in here anymore,” she observes as she makes her way toward the warm inner room.

Lanisen says, glancing up, “What do you expect when you come at coursing time?”

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