My heart pounds against my ribs. I am oddly aware of the blood laboring through my veins. My head feels like it’s floating, not actually attached to my body.
I’ve been poisoned. I can only seem to fill my lungs halfway. My limbs don’t respond when I try to move them. Voices slowly seep
The inn had the pulsing, frenetic ambience of an auction house. Wall clocks and mantel clocks began crying like babies as they one by one struck 11:24.
Phezz groaned. Another excruciating morning. “I can’t hear myself think!”
“You could always leave,” the late Lord Pompington said. “Leave my inn!” His wispy form didn’t match
I’m a sucker for a sob story and a fuzzy face. These stinking adorable Pandeera pups blinking their big eyes at me are going to get my tail in the fire, I just know it.
Over the chatter of the pub, they tell me their hovership’s chargelink got sheared off while navigating through a
“Mama?” a scared, little voice called.
Phezznibbet Maplebark’s ears twitched, his paw closing around the bottom knife in his bandolier. He poked his head around the slimy dumpster that hid him. At the front of the alleyway stood a figure not much smaller than himself. It didn’t appear threatening, so he took a few
“If Ashe wanted to convince him, she would have to face him alone.”
The Narrator in her head, her “magic,” spoke. The voice narrated events around her periodically, granting her insights she had no right to possess. She hesitated outside the entrance to Canopy’s sole tree-top lodge, The Maplebark Inn. Its owner would complete
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