He stares quizzically as she turns to smile at him, maw still dripping from his drink. He learns that she had been here for 8 summers, that was one more year than he had even been alive you know. He traces this information somewhere on the chalkboard that is his mind. Bred here, born here, the woman was a native to these parts. She had to though, ventured outside the realm, which seemed to be more than most could say.
Finally he shakes, kind of like a dog if horses did do that sort of thing, an attempt to free himself from moisture. Actually that’s where he had seen the display, a wild dog somewhere between Nunnely Hill and Priese. It was a spotted thing, a true miss match of colors. Its ears were far too large for its head, and it was rather small. Not like what Weir thought a dog should be.
She had found her way back home, of course the path always did seem to lead back there. Though as the years went by Weir had become to feel a stranger in is homelands. Perhaps this time he should not return? No, that was a silly thought, let’s not get carried away ol’ chap, he thought to himself rather amused at his own joke. Oh what was that?
She had offered him a tour of the river, well, he couldn’t pass that up.“Yes the river, that sounds like a plan. Perhaps we may even see a Pseudemys concinna concinna! I hear they get up to 12 inches in length here abouts.” He prattles on, something about turtles and how hard they were to catch.
