bone apple teat

Tyrian was sniffing along the border in search of Aryn. The plan had been for her to get her affairs in order and then report back to him for lessons so he assumed any day now she'd turn up on the border with a bag of nausea medicine and maybe another dead thing under her arm for good measure. So far nothing. He was beginning to wonder if he needed to go looking for her or if he should even bother. If she chose to back out that wasn't his problem. Nothing had exchanged paws so it wasn't like he would be out anything. Actually, technically, he still came out ahead as he'd taken the rabbit she'd brought him that day. By following that logic he had already profited so it mattered even less if she showed up.

But, he mused as he paused to eye a wide creek, where was the fun in that? Tyrian was looking forward to the challenge. It was easy to get lulled into complacency by routine. Having her around to disrupt things might be good for him. Or something.

He leaped over the creek and continued on his way. This stretch of the border was pretty lifeless and boring. For some reason the bison didn't frequent it as much as the rest of the land. As far as he could tell it was all the same. The grass grew just as thickly and the trees offered just as much shade. And yet the muddy places were noticeably less pocked by hooves and the creek banks were well formed and clearly not mangled by big heavy beasts. The lack of traffic by the bison didn't bother him any. No, it just made this stretch a better place for the sheep.