The Lost Islands
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we are the walking dead *

“I am glad we could come to an agreement,’ Asp spoke, giving a nod of his white head. It would not be wise to venture out now, he decided, as he turned his head to look in the direction of the forest-island. His skin twitched and shivered and he took a few steps away from the two horses.

“The Bay is yours. As soon as I warm up, I’ll be on my way.”

Ah, yes, that ever-pressing matter of the cold. It was settling into his bones, making him feel ages older than what he really was, and icicles were starting to form on his whiskery muzzle. Another nod of his head, and the stallion was off to try and find a tree or something to shelter beneath, at least until the blood returned to his toes and he could swim away from here.

Perhaps he ought to visit in the summer, when it wasn’t so outlandishly cold.


(Sorry, I haven't really been feeling well and this is all my brain could spit out.)

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