Iskra
Iskra should have known. How many woods had he wandered through? How many mysterious, mischievous things had haunted his axe swings, a siren song of the trees? He snorted derisively, his hand slackening at his side. Goose still stayed on alert, but as nothing else transpired, his fur began to flatten out. Iskra turned back towards Thorn, unbothered that he'd momentarily used Iskra as a shield. He hoped to get strong enough to serve as such.
"I think that's my sign it's time to head home to Halo," Iskra laughed lightly, repositioning the pack on his shoulders, the canteen that had been passed off hanging a bit askew. "Doesn't seem worth hunting for roses if the trees are going to try to lead me to my demise instead." Goose wove between them as they spoke, pressing against Thorn's legs while he stretched out his back feet. "The village is that way, by the way," Iskra pointed towards a direction with confidence. "Good luck, Thorn, hopefully we meet again in better company." The woodcutter lifted his hand in farewell as he and Goose struck off for home.
"I think that's my sign it's time to head home to Halo," Iskra laughed lightly, repositioning the pack on his shoulders, the canteen that had been passed off hanging a bit askew. "Doesn't seem worth hunting for roses if the trees are going to try to lead me to my demise instead." Goose wove between them as they spoke, pressing against Thorn's legs while he stretched out his back feet. "The village is that way, by the way," Iskra pointed towards a direction with confidence. "Good luck, Thorn, hopefully we meet again in better company." The woodcutter lifted his hand in farewell as he and Goose struck off for home.
Woke up drunk at 10 a.m.—we gon' do this shit again
Someone pour me up a double shot of whiskey
They know me and Jack Daniel's got a history
Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy
Someone pour me up a double shot of whiskey
They know me and Jack Daniel's got a history
Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy
