Dignity wasn't something Keinruf was very familiar with. Nor shame. Being dirt-poor was something he knew intimately, although until lately it hadn't really been a factor. The money he'd been given for travels was gone, and he was now engaging in a cultural exchange. The patrons of the Lilting...
Keinruf was sitting at the edge of a park, safe in the shadows of the tall buildings of the Trenches, gloomily watching a squirrel and a rat throw an unripe melon at each other, then whack at it with sticks. His tail drooped over the end of the bench, and his whiskers likewise drooped. He hadn't...
The pine marten sat at the bar, one arm draped across on the wooden top, his face tucked into the crook of his elbow. His ears were limp and askew, his tail dragging on the floor, occasionally fluttering with a twitch. His other paw clenched the handle of a half-full mug of something thick and...