[Pratt is in the shops, because of course he is. Where else would he go now that the orchard, his main source of food, is gone. The man has enough stored in his house to feed several people for months, but he's always checking the shops anyway. Maybe something new and exciting will show up. Powdered milk or pasta or maybe even some Mountain House rice pilaf.
And then suddenly he's not in the canned goods aisle anymore, but in front of a fire and surrounded by orcs and something larger, skinnier and more toothy that he can't identify. He's never seen anything like it. Bonfires sure; big ones even where they all got drunk and sometimes set off fireworks and threw their beer cans into the blaze to watch them implode.
But this is something else, something magical and fascinating and he wishes he could reach out and touch the fire animals. ]
no subject
And then suddenly he's not in the canned goods aisle anymore, but in front of a fire and surrounded by orcs and something larger, skinnier and more toothy that he can't identify. He's never seen anything like it. Bonfires sure; big ones even where they all got drunk and sometimes set off fireworks and threw their beer cans into the blaze to watch them implode.
But this is something else, something magical and fascinating and he wishes he could reach out and touch the fire animals. ]