What would you do-oo-oo for a... (Azag sale)

So it was back to this. He had known one season of freedom before it was snatched away and he was returned to what he had thought he had escaped. The sun hurt his eyes and the robe bit painfully into the livid flesh of his wounds, so far it seemed no one was interested in him and he was at least grateful for that. Perhaps he would be freed if simply no one bought him. He could only hope.

He moved like a wind vane in the stiff autumn breeze his paws aching from the cold and his pains seeming to be magnified by the humiliation of once again being sold like a piece of meat. His eyes were dull, and tired, almost shocked that after everything had gone so right they went wrong again.





Speaking  Thinking You