19-14 Gryph Scat

Approaching a marshy glen, the waif takes heed of her surrounds. High reeds stand like monoliths in the algaed waters, murky and nearly devoid of creatures. Save those who buzz above the water’s surface.

Wading through the pool which soaks up to her chest, she happens upon a Gryph nest, empty it seems. “Fresh droppings. Gryphs are a favored purveyor of Phycomids. Might be a cave around they’re using for food. Nothing good in this pond.” whispered the waif.

Wind picked up, screeching a warning. “Huh, wind’s howling.” She said gruffly to herself as though an emotionless mutant.