Lazy bones

It wasn’t always true, about the early mornings. But her day started whenever he decided it did. For now, she belonged to him. Getting an early start to the day didn’t come naturally to him, either. He was grumpy, and the scribbling of Spider didn’t help his mood any.

He waited as she scrambled to grab what she needed. He glanced at another scribbling as she pushed it away. The wings easily pointed to the owner, but he couldn’t care less if she drew Wylan. The boy was inconsequential, his head was filled with fluff. The only reason he had made it to the position of Heir, was the very complicated situation where his dead Grandmother had requested it.

He nodded his head and looked at the statistics she had drawn up. “Did you account for what we are bringing in a day?” Actually, she probably hadn’t been here long enough to see how things worked. “Hunts are sent out regularly, big hunts where a deer is brought down happen about once a week. The meat is taken down to the beach and cured in the smoke house down there. I’ll walk you through it.” He decided, pushing back to his paws, he turned and headed for the door without a backwards glance. “Oh, and this isn’t your bedroom, this is the pack store. Do well to remember it.” It didn’t matter to him if it was the only space she’d been given.


"Basilisk"