Home Artists Posts Import Register

Content

Quyll Downy sat on the mossy rock, twisting and braiding the hempen lines and plucking stray feathers from his head to add to its edge. Like many other nights where sleep eluded Quyll, he'd turn his attention to this weave: a lesson in patience and meditation. Eventually, it was finished— but a careless step from his mossy perch sent him tumbling down. In the tangled mess of feathers and net, Quyll finally found some well-deserved rest.

Files

Comments

No comments found for this post.