Willows

He’d slept decently, occasionally waking to turn the racks, stoke the fire, stretch his legs, grab a drink. The meat was dried and he was up before the break of dawn, gathering the strips into his pouches. There were a lot of them, so he was glad he’d have the hide to carry them in on the way home.

His ears tipped back as Lia rustled and shifted, and then a moment later, his head twisted around at her long whisper. She didn’t seem to be in distress. Maybe she was just not a morning riser. A chuckle hushed from his jaws, as he turned back to stuffing the pouches.

The fire was just hot ash by now. He picked up each rack and leaned them against a willow tree’s trunk. Maybe Lia could find a use for them, maybe drying herbs.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think