[The closer they get to the pond, the more uneasy he comes, as if his fur is being rubbed the wrong way. A soft growl stutters unevenly in his throat, but he continues to follow to the pond with that... aura. It's something, but he can't discern the origins of such feelings.]
Um... No.
[The grass is set down by the edge of the pond though, arranged in pleasing little piles.]
But if she's a harvest goddess, the offering of a... bountiful... crop should be acceptable.
no subject
Um... No.
[The grass is set down by the edge of the pond though, arranged in pleasing little piles.]
But if she's a harvest goddess, the offering of a... bountiful... crop should be acceptable.
[It's meager at best.]