The Elder Sprog turns eight today.
And there she is, in all her gap-tooth glory:
She’s all right, I think I’ll keep her.
HAPPY DAY, NOA KITTEN!
and in other news, I have a new favourite line in the book that isn’t called SRR:
And any ill-luck that comes to Pelimburg now will be blamed on Ilven’s dive, on the alchemy of falling girls and broken-glass sea.