The head of curly hair barely pokes above the thick fur that covers his bed. The moon is setting and the window is cracked open, and the sounds of what Arthur thinks of as 'morning garrison' waft slowly inside, along with the smell of bread and animals and soldiers
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Excellent piece! Keep going as you find your inspiration, honey ♥
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I love Arthur so much so I was glad to see him and the brat for a minute. Gods love you for reading.
xxoo
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thanks for checking in. xo
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