IANTO
Ianto stepped into the clearing on bare feet, his toes wiggling against grass still warm from the day's sun. It was twilight and the trees were darker, the shadows taller, the woods louder and yet more silent than ever. Ianto had left the wagon but a few moments before, and his feet knew to take him here. He was not only without shoes; no, he did not don any of his usual accoutrements. No coat full of treasures and tricks; no bejewelled fingers, no studded ears. No colour or vibrancy could be seen on his person beyond the copper of his hair and the gold in his teeth.
His only accessory was the collar around his neck.
Taking a long, deep breath and letting it out through his nose, the fox settled on his knees in the middle of the clearing, surrounded on all sides by statuettes and offerings. He placed his hands on his thighs, palms up, and directed his gaze to the ground.
"I bring craftsmanship, song, fabrics and favours," he said, his accent wrapping around the words like music.
His only accessory was the collar around his neck.
Taking a long, deep breath and letting it out through his nose, the fox settled on his knees in the middle of the clearing, surrounded on all sides by statuettes and offerings. He placed his hands on his thighs, palms up, and directed his gaze to the ground.
"I bring craftsmanship, song, fabrics and favours," he said, his accent wrapping around the words like music.
i know places we can hide
