I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite

There are two things Ashhal is very good at in life. Warring and napping. Well, three, if you count fucking. Which he does. So, as I was saying, three things in life Ashhal is very good at. As two of those are somewhat unattainable at this particular moment, that leaves him with one.

Napping.

Hah, you thought I was going to say something else, didn’t you? Dirty bastard.

Winter sucks balls far taking naps. It’s cold, wet, and just generally miserable. Fortunately it’s not winter yet. Maybe he could find someone to cuddle him over the winter, but he wasn’t counting on it. See, on top of being essentially useless, Ashhal also has some, uh, let’s say personality problems. He’s just not very likeable. Like, not at all.

To be frank, he’s a dick. And he’s stupidly proud of it. Like being a jerk is something to be proud of. To be fair, he used to a be a bigger dick than he is now. Honestly, I’m surprised he had any friends. He’s a work in progress. It’s been a decades long process, it’s true, but hey, progress is progress, right?

Anyway, winter sucks, he’s a dick, blah blah blah. Luckily for Ashhal, it’s still fall. And the sun is still warm. The bugs are gone. It’s perfect napping weather. So what else would you expect him to be doing?

With a groan, he stretches out onto a patch of sun shining through the denuded branches of the forest. It’s a nice little glen, no gnarled roots to poke him in the ribs and a soft layer of moss to cushion his lanky frame. Perfection. Heaven.

Damn, might turn him into a poet yet.