lulubaggins

3 As soon as Ethleen decided that they weren't actually being hunted by a unit of redcaps, they had gotten back onto Kanai and headed towards the border of The Bog and the powder forest.  Perrywinkle could tell when they were getting closer to the border, the blue dust seemed thicker with each stride that Kanai took.  It wasn't long before the sun had set behind the trees casting a blue glow from the dust.  They finally had slowed to a hault. "We shall rest here for a moment, but should continue on our way," Ethleen stroked Kanai's neck as she reached into the saddle for some dried meat.  Tossing up above Kanai's head, the cat snatched it

2 Just before Perrywinkle could reply to Gremly, a howl ripped through the mud pits, sending a shiver of fear down Perrywinkle's spine.  Mr. Gris never called Perrywinkle home, until it was time to make his dinner.  Perrywinkle looked towards the sky and through the clouds of sulfur and fumes of the bog she could tell that dinner time wasn't for quite some time.  That means, there were other reasons, unknown to Perrywinkle that would make Mr. Gris call her home.  The only other times were for beatings and accusations that Perrywinkle had stolen from Mr. Gris.  Another howl sounded that made Perrywinkle cower ever so slightly. "Someone sou

Our story begins in a bog.  It's not so much the bog that is important, but the small (yet not so much), unpretentious, unassuming, not so much to look at little girl in the bog. This little girth, err. . . girl is named Perrywinkle.  Now when one thinks of the word Perrywinkle, they think of a lovely shade of blue.  That shade of blue draws the mind to babies, and babies are cute.  Perrywinkle, however by most opinions, was not. Her black hair resembled that of a nest that some small animal may call home.  Under the smudges of dirt, mud and bog juice her pasty skin was covered by freckles.  Her eyes resembled the color of ogre droppings

 Bog Juice Muddy Beginnings Our story begins in a bog.  It’s not so much the bog that is important, but the small (yet not so much), unpretentious, unassuming, not much to look at little girl in the bog. This little girth, err… girl is named Perrywinkle.  Now when one thinks of perrywinkle, they dream of a lovely shade of blue.  That shade of blue draws the mind to babies and babies are cute.  Perrywinkle, however by most opinions, was not. Her black hair resembled that of a nest that some small animal may call home.  Under the smudges of dirt, mud and bog juice her pasty skin were covered in freckles.  Her eyes resembled the