It was a bright and early March morning; the heat of the previous month was already ebbing away, and Burrowgatory was starting to stink a lot less of pheromones and horniness. Instead, depending on where one was, it was replaced with a distinct smell of…a clash of things. Things fried, cooked, seared and simmered–savory, sweet, sour? A mix of things in between? It was really hard to say, and Anna didn’t have a nose for this stuff. While she enjoyed eating ...
