The uhhh.... Stuff
I looked up from my sketch as Professor Yakkingtons breathing deepened and his ear twitched. Someone was stalking our camp. I pulled my pack closer, pulling out a bottle of wine while adjusting the small knife next to it.
“Come sit with us, warm yourself. We can share some stories over a bottle. " I spoke softly into the darkness, reinforced only by a low grunt from Yakkington.
fuck the formatting here