User blog:Prard'ras'kleoni

The Epitaph of Colonel Procyon
Procyon listened to the loam and underbrush rustling behind him. Slowly, without turning around, he notched an arrow to his bow. “Ah noo ‘tis yoo Adhera.” He stated flatly in his wide Northern accent. Sssssssssssthunk! The mountain hare turned faster than the eye could follow, firing his arrow all in one fluid movement. Adhera stood up from the bushes, a training sword in paw. “Darn! You get me every time…” the mouse-maid grumbled as she brushed herself off, pulling the foxtail tipped training arrow off of her clothing. “We better head bauck.” Procyon decided, shouldering the long bow over his black tunic.