If there were going to be Grounders staying at the Palace, it only seemed right that they should be provided for in the coming season. The problem, as always, was the Spire. A little creativity and a lot of magic had resulted in the sledge that Jigano pulled through the portal, loaded up with bags of grain and firewood. After tithing a bag of grain to the guards he had continued towards the Citadel, dragging the sled behind him with quiet grumbling the whole way. No stranger to the guards by now, at least they let him into the city without much fuss and he headed for the palace to deliver the goods to the rooms Loren had set aside for the refugees.
Then came the long, boring, and even more frustrating process of unloading the sled at the Palace doors and carrying the individual bags and logs back towards the rooms. Jigano was sweating hard in spite of the cold and only halfway through the task when he paused for a breather in the hall, stretching to crack his back as his body protested the abuse he was putting it through. ”Gods most fortunate, I should have brought help,” he murmured to Isuma, the snow-leopard gryphlet perched on his shoulder and reeping encouragement. ”Alright, fair. Bigger help,” he amended with a fond chuckle for his companion’s willingness to lend a (tiny) claw.
Morgan
Then came the long, boring, and even more frustrating process of unloading the sled at the Palace doors and carrying the individual bags and logs back towards the rooms. Jigano was sweating hard in spite of the cold and only halfway through the task when he paused for a breather in the hall, stretching to crack his back as his body protested the abuse he was putting it through. ”Gods most fortunate, I should have brought help,” he murmured to Isuma, the snow-leopard gryphlet perched on his shoulder and reeping encouragement. ”Alright, fair. Bigger help,” he amended with a fond chuckle for his companion’s willingness to lend a (tiny) claw.
