4/25/2025, 7:22 PM
"And why wouldn't he?"
The voice is high, tinny, arrogant, even. Astrid strides forward, her head high, her eyes darting towards Sverke. They've had their differences. She doesn't forgive him for bringing up Trygve. But he's right. They can't just sit here.
"Daddy, we can't just sit here. And we're almost grown." She's seven months. Hardly an adult, but old enough to hunt. They'd been allowed on a few thus far. "Asgeir, Sverke, and I could easily find them, I'm sure."
The voice is high, tinny, arrogant, even. Astrid strides forward, her head high, her eyes darting towards Sverke. They've had their differences. She doesn't forgive him for bringing up Trygve. But he's right. They can't just sit here.
"Daddy, we can't just sit here. And we're almost grown." She's seven months. Hardly an adult, but old enough to hunt. They'd been allowed on a few thus far. "Asgeir, Sverke, and I could easily find them, I'm sure."
![[Image: uszaty-Arbuz-pomegranate.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/QN94RmY8/uszaty-Arbuz-pomegranate.png)
i fake it so real i am beyond fake
and some day you will ache like i ache