I'm a lonely boy.
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Lindsey's a little like Arthur Weasley when it comes to humans.


Excepting the short story bit (which may be extended to include his travel to and through 'Souls in the future, but goddammit, it's done for now), this is set in the middle of Ethereal Eclipse, at about 7 in the morning, and is forward-dated to March 11th.


Final word count is 2609.



▼ ▼ ▼


Could life get any more awkward?


River didn't think so. It was enough that he had been born a little mixed-up. It was enough that his sisters ragged on him sometimes, usually, all the time. It was enough that Lilah liked to argue — she called it "debate", but River knew what everyone was thinking — with stubborn traders (like that one big gray male who called himself Julian. He'd dealt in gemstones, and among his wares was a fine moonstone that Lilah wanted for Io. It had ended in a black eye for the male, and a moonstone for Io. Lilah, being a giantess from the Yukon, was not one to be trifled with). It was enough that he and his sisters reaching eight months of age, an event that one of the human books that Uncle Lindsey had shown him referred to as the "onset of puberty", came on hard and fast, and River wasn't sure he liked it. It was enough that his sisters were starting to elicit curious sniffs from young and not-so-young males among the outposts they passed by, and it was definitely enough when the young males, misinterpreting River's feminine scent as having even the slightest shade of indication of his willingness to mate with them, flirted with him. He sighed.


"What's up, kid?" Lindsey yawned, padding up alongside his nephew. For a while, the pack hadn't been sure whether he should call River his niece or his nephew. Fortunately, wolves aren't required to use pronouns, so no one was especially inconvenienced the day River said "I'm a boy," which had been a day not so long ago. Lindsey, who was in the preference of other males, and who had always been avant-garde besides, had felt bonded to River from birth, and they had become loyal friends since. Lindsey, guitar-strumming wolf of the world, had taught River whatever he expressed interest in knowing, believing that those who sought knowledge should always receive it. He himself was in the habit of gathering knowledge from esoteric places, most notably certain extracts and botanicals that were said to alter one's perception of the world. Every once in a while, Lindsey would come into possession of this or that strange plant, and isolate for a spell — up to a few days — then return, looking a little different each time. River considered Lindsey his best friend, and the sentiment was returned in kind.


"Those boys won't stop flirting with Talia," River groaned, turning away from the spectacle a few yards behind. It wasn't that he was a prude, and it wasn't that he was jealous — at all. It was that he was conflicted. What do you do when you don't fit in with one or the other? His sisters were pretty she-wolves, and their mother was a pearl. Io had told the pups, when they were very young, that their father, Rowan, had been a great and grandiose charmer with a heavy pelt and heavy bones. They were fairly certain that she had been exaggerating, as none of them were growing into lions, and timber wolf blood was not among giant blood like Lilah's, but they had decided only to joke about their mother's obvious fondness for her lost mate. Even if Rowan hadn't been the hunk of Io's dreams, Lilah certainly was, being able to put her hand-paws around the tops of pines while on two legs, and crush them if she ever had a reason to try. But River himself...? 'Nah,' he'd think, looking a little nervously into still water. Truthfully, his androgynous beauty was starting to draw the eyes of a few youthful bohemians in the settlements they traveled through.


Lindsey processed, then said, "So what? You sayin' you don't know why?"


River growled, "Of course I know why." He cast a disapproving glance over his shoulder, for reasons he couldn't quite divine.


"My niece is a very pretty wolf," Lindsey hummed. "And Lilah, overbearing as she is, taught her how to handle herself. I don't think you have anything to worry about, Riv." His own copper-colored eyes, glinting in the sunlight that poked holes in the overcast day above them, noted with amusement the pup trying his best to look suave while courting Talia on the path.


River turned away, and trudged to the edge of a quiet stream that ran to the right of the trail they were following. "Actually," he mumbled, "it's not her. It's me. I'm... confused."


Lindsey raised an eyebrow, so far as it can be said that wolves have eyebrows, and wryly quipped, "Oh... do we need to have a talk?"


"No!" assured River, slightly embarrassed. He remembered Lilah's lecture on sexuality that emphasized both feminine power and technical accuracy, courtesy of her blunt and realist Yukon way of thinking. Sierra had stuck her tongue out, Talia had giggled, and River had noticed his mother's eyes twinkling with laughter. "I just... don't know where I fit," he confessed, voice wrung like a rag.


Coming of age was awkward for anyone. Unevenly grown-in fur, gangly limbs, a newly-begotten mating drive; and River was getting the brunt of the awkwardness, as far as emotional and social development were concerned. The pack had chosen to raise him sans the application of gender, and if you didn't fit the mold when it came to courtship between males and females, it was easy to feel like a sharp stone on a smooth beach. Lindsey knew that. At nine months, his first crush — on a dashing young red male named Tobias — had ended in heartache, when dreamy Tobias ran off with a petite she-wolf who had the most adoring eyes he'd ever seen, next to Lindsey's. He sighed out of his nose. But, like a fish peeking out of a lake, a thought revealed itself to him. Of course. "Hmm... ever heard of a vision quest? It's when you travel far and wide, searching for yourself," he said, theatrically. More conversationally, "Maybe you should try it."


"Really?" said River, outwardly skeptical, but with an undertone that suggested that he'd appreciate not being around when Sierra and Talia's suitors started bringing them squirrels in genocidal numbers. More hopefully, he said, "Do you think it would help?"


Lindsey chose not to explain why, because knowing the meaning beforehand was not the point. Instead, he opened the pouch slung about his waist and fetched a modest pipe, made of dark, sturdy soapstone. The bowl rose convex from one end, and was amply concave within itself. He presented it to River, who took the ends of it in either hand-paw and examined it curiously. "Get ye northeastwards," an arbitrary but likely direction, "and befriend someone with a good heart and green tobacco." Lindsey knew the technical term for this alleged green tobacco, but it was much funnier to think of his nephew asking for "green tobacco" than for cannabis. He'd find out, and Lindsey was more than prepared to take the blame for the mislabeling. "Ask them to smoke it with you out of that pipe. It'll aid ya."


He reflected. "If the ladies approve, that is."


▼ ▼ ▼


It had been a long journey. Not the walking part, although that had been long, too. The "ladies' approval" part. Tough-as-nails Lilah had been enthused about the idea, boasting about the trek southward that she had taken on her own when she had been about a year and a quarter old, having had to travel a far greater distance to get where she was going than River was likely to. She told him that she had managed to scare a brown bear from her kill on the way, and if that should have to happen to him, literally or metaphorically, confidence was key. The other three? Not so easy. Io, who was to Lilah what a flower petal was to a block of iron, welled up, effusive with tears not in her eyes, but in her body. Sierra, who had been hunting in Secui, hip-bumped the two-legged River with much violence, tail raised and waving stiffly. He'd nearly toppled over, but caught himself, ears pulled back. Her forceful communication had been understood, and River's tail tucked somewhat. He couldn't bring himself to snarl in defense and reprimand, though he'd found himself wanting to do so a lot lately. Talia had chuffed at him playfully, and wondered, in a tone of great feminine curiosity tinged with challenge, if he couldn't handle her.


Lindsey, naturally, was the one to step in and try to loosen the tension, calm in the chaos surrounding him. He assured them all that his charge was quite capable of taking care of himself, and drawled, no, Talia, you're not chasing away your sibling because you're the "queen bitch", whatever that is, and no, Talia, it doesn't sound like something to be proud of. She criticized him for "thinking like a bottom," which earned her a nip from Io and a level "I've transcended pack hierarchy" from Lindsey. Talia complained about how weird her family was, and told everyone how normal Basil's was in comparison. Lilah, territorial, inquired tersely about who all Basil was and why he had had the audacity. Sierra smirked, teasing her sister about her new mate; Talia rebuked it, and Lindsey averted his eyes from the scene in silent embarrassment. Always interesting, this living with females thing, he thought. Turning his attention to River, he joked that maybe his only boy shouldn't leave him after all, lest he go insane, and River quietly asserted, with a smile in his voice, that he was pretty sure that Lindsey had crossed that line long ago. Lindsey laughed, and they nuzzled briefly.


▼ ▼ ▼


The two of them stole into the ruins of Portland that afternoon to find River what Lindsey termed "some duds." There were well-sheltered stores of human clothing here and there, and torn posters of humans wearing it. They marveled. Clothing was not especially popular among their family — Io had once been warmly tolerant of Lindsey putting a strange flowered headdress on her, just for fun, but Lilah was adamantly nudist. As it was gaining popularity among other packs, Sierra and Talia had grown interested in little things, like necklaces and beaded bracelets that they had seen older females wearing. Lindsey was the only one among them to truly appreciate the artfulness of it, and had consequently passed this trait on to River. They found him a plain long-sleeved shirt that was charcoal in color, which looked quite fetching with his nigh-on monochromatic pelt, and gray jeans that were slashed at the knees. That feature made them easier to wear with wolfish legs, and Lindsey, admiring, assured River that they'd modify them for his tail. "You'll look as torn up as you feel," Lindsey said knowingly.


They went on the prowl again in search of a belt, to appease River, and found one with a simple interlocking buckle (they would have recognized it as being similar to the seatbelt in a fancy car, if they'd ever investigated one — Lindsey had poked around a couple of dilapidated cars in his day, but not a one had been expensive enough for him to have seen a buckle so streamlined). It was made of sturdy canvas cloth, and it cut a swath of bright red across River's hips when he wore it. Pleased, he stored it in a deerskin pouch with the rest of his findings, and they started to meander back to their pack on all fours, bags hanging from their necks. They had been out for some hours, and dusk was soon to fall — the dome of the sky was still day-blue, but the reflection of the moon hung alight, and the horizon was ringed with small, fluffy clouds; a lemon-rind yellow that would give way to soft sorbet hues of purple, pink, and orange. Shadows from juts of thick winter fur made patterns on the wolves' bodies, and they walked amiably side by side.


"So, now that we've reached a consensus," Lindsey commented, recalling the short discussion that ensued after the extended back-and-forth, when he'd turned on his quiet confidence and won the girls over.


"Yeah?" River's tail was swaying low, slow, and contentedly, his deerskin bobbing most leisurely.


"When were you plannin' on leaving?" He'd hesitated, but hey, had to go through with that one...


The younger wolf didn't miss a beat. "Tomorrow, I think." Were that an inquiry from his sisters or mother, he would have stuttered, or paused for an uncomfortably long time, or said the wrong thing. Not so with his uncle.


He of pallid pelt was most relieved, though he didn't show it, keeping his cool de rigueur. "I'll miss you, kid."


"I'll miss you, too," said River, and they touched noses as they walked.


▼ ▼ ▼


About a week later, after traveling upward along the coast of Maine and New Brunswick, he had come upon a charred stretch of land. With just enough new moss slumbering on the remains of trees and rocks to say, he knew that tiny flowers would curve up from the ground in spring. He pushed inquisitively forward, and found himself on a land bridge, where the scents of many other creatures began to converge. Surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean, the smell of saltwater carried on the cool March breeze, over rocky beaches and the boughs of evergreens. There was a vague path carved by pawprints and canine musk further in toward the island, and River entered, butterflies in his belly. He was as northeastward as northeastward got from his starting point, or so it felt like.


Traversing the base of mountains, into valleys blanketed with snow, he wondered idly and then more intensely as he traveled why his uncle had told him to go to an island, and the further toward the center he got, the more rational he found it: though it had been faint for a while, he could now sense the invisible presence of packs. In the middle of a heavy forest, quiet in early morning, he became overwhelmed. Foolishly, he had traveled through the night, sleep taken away from him increasingly in favor of new information, and the weight of it bore on his mind and vision. That was to say nothing of the perfume of wolves tracing patterns around him. Because his pack had been composed of travelers, he was somewhat versed in the art of formal communication, but had always tended toward shyness. Lindsey had told him to befriend someone. Befriend someone? Outside of his family? Had he ever even done that?


Dawn opened up, sunlight peeking through the cloud cover from which the air had extracted dustings of snow for most of the night. An owl hooted, happy to have caught itself breakfast. Spooked in the stillness, River burst forward into a clearing, and in front of him, there was a shallow reddish cave jutting up from an outcropping of rocks. After hours of cold air in his eyes, it was a mirage of shelter in the dark woods akin to an oasis in the desert. With the foggy mania of the sleepless, he scratched the ground around the perimeter — the "Do Not Disturb" sign of lupine communication. He ascended the flat rock leading up to the mouth of the cave with a sway in his step. The two paws he stood on were sore and cold, eased by the dry smoothness of the cave floor. Dropping his leather knapsack in a back corner, he slumped down gratefully opposite. Grumbling egregiously at the light of day, he curled to face the dark end of the cave, mind swaying into the black of sleep.
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Word Count: 597

<3


★ ★ ★


"But Taj, I just got here. I don't want to visit home yet." Ever since the topic of Grace's family and traditions had been brought up, and she had promised him that she would take him to meet her tribe sometime, the crow had done little more than ask her impatiently, "When go?" No matter what answer or explanation she gave him, she received the same reply: "Why?!" It was like having a flying, cawing, pecking puppy around. "See, Taj, this is why we're not going. You would teach the younger litter bad habits! If I had a pup nearly as lippy – beaky?" Her stream of consciousness ranting cut off with this ponderance, and they lapsed into silence for a few short minutes. All too soon, Grace heard those dreaded words: "When go?" She groaned and walked faster; the crow matched pace long enough to land on her head. He leaned over and stuck his beak in her face. "When go?!" The luperci stopped dead in her tracks and pulled her lip back just enough to reveal sharp teeth. Count of one, and she snapped her jaw, not hard, but loud.


The crow was off of her head before she could have counted two, and she burst into merry laughter. "Oh, Taj! Now that was excellent acting, wouldn't you say?" Her avian companion was cawing his disdain in what sounded to be highly colourful language, if only she'd been able to speak crow. She continued to chuckle as they traversed the forest, Taj flying a little bit away from her... just in case. She flopped down on the forest floor and looked up into the trees. After a couple of minutes, the crow ventured toward her. Just as he was settling down, looking smug and comfortable, a bit of snow dropped onto her face, causing her to jump. Taj startled and flew off at top speed, with Grace calling after him, "Taj! It was snow, I wasn't going to eat you! I promise!" After a long moment, he didn't return, and she sighed and rubbed her face. He'd calm down and come back, probably, or she'd look for him in a bit. Probably just needed to calm down and get his bearings back about him... and speaking of...


She took out a small draw-string pouch, containing her smoking paraphernalia. Just as she was getting ready to pack a bowl, she heard a familiar voice say, "What do?" With a grin, Grace got up, putting the pipe and the pouch back into her pocket, and wandered toward the voice. It was coming from a shallow cave; it echoed when the crow spoke, and when his talons scraped. She sneaked around slowly, barely even looking into the dark as she listened for movement. When she heard him again, she lunged, grabbing for him, and landed on something... something oddly... furry... a canine...


She leapt up as fast as she could manage, Taj grabbing onto her mane and clinging. "I am so sorry!" she cried, stifling laughter at this odd turn of events. "I didn't even imagine... Taj doesn't usually speak to anyone besides me!" She looked her victim over; young, a wolf, oddly delicate and rather pretty... and questionably scented. She paused for a second, then shrugged it off and smiled. "I'm Grace, and the crow is Taj. He's just learning to use our language — he's mostly harmless, really." She offered a hand to help the stranger up, still grinning, and trying desperately hard not to think of what had just happened and burst into laughter. "Who are you?"


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Wild POST appeared!


Word count is 602.



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Five minutes. It had been five minutes hence he'd lain him down to sleep, and already there was a disturbance. Were the gashes in the snow and soil not enough? You'd think that nobody around here could read. River turned his head to look at, or perhaps glare at, the intruder, peering groggily through one hazy blue eye. It was only a crow, apparently doing its damndest to carry on the legacy of roosters, the strange-looking birds that humans had kept to awaken them at stupid o'clock in the morning. 'What do?' was the question, and "Ergh," was the reply. River, who had a few months yet before he'd reach physical maturity and as such was growing very fast, was not terribly good at waking up before he was ready to. And that was on a good day — for example, one on which he had not been traveling all night the night before, and on which he had not been woken up by an errant crow. 'Whatever,' he thought, shifting positions so that one fluffy cheek was squished against his left arm. He might have been more comfortable sleeping in Lupus, but he'd only been able to transition between forms for a couple of months, and was not yet adept at it. To try just then would take energy that he didn't have.


The swarthy corvid continued to hover near his head, looking inquisitive, but said nothing else. River closed his eyes, in an attempt to overcome the alertness delivered unto him. Daybreak was insinuating itself into the cave, the shadows within becoming an ombré of muted blues and purples. River's gray pelt reflected them, an asset against additional disruptions, or so one might think. The crow's talons scratched the rock beneath it as it hopped, once, and emitted a soft and questioning 'krr?' A moment later, River was snarling crankily as his rest was again interrupted, this time by another wolf pouncing on him in a manner most undignified. No... evidently, no one around here could read. "Ngh," he said, in response to the giggling apology from the wolf behind him. He rolled over, squinting against the light to look at her.


Clearly, she was in cahoots with the bird, as it was now glancing over her head, startled. She had a dusty blonde coat that appeared to be a little thinner than his own. He considered the size and shape of her ears and face, and determined with some disgruntled interest that she was of blood that he hadn't often encountered. As his sight adjusted to the brightness emanating from the cave's entrance, he noticed more detail — her mane was curly, and her turquoise eyes smiled at him as much as her mouth did. She looked soft and happy, and beautiful. River wasn't sure how to react. His uncle's words drifted through his consciousness. Befriend someone with a good heart... He was no fool, however. Talia looked soft and happy and beautiful, and that hadn't ever meant anything good. "Hi, Grace," he said, drowsiness and a little sarcasm coloring his voice, "and Taj." It was odd, he supposed, that a crow had talked to him. Having never tried to hold a conversation with a bird, he wouldn't have known. Grace seemed adamant about holding a conversation with him, though, so he grudgingly rescinded the notion of repose. "I'm someone who was up all night and was just getting to sleep before you and your crow stopped me," he disclosed, cross. Then, softening, he made an effort to be polite, whether or not it was deserved. "River. Good morning."
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Word Count: 516. GRACE used CUTENESS. It's super effective! No, really. They're adorable.


For someone who rose with the dawn each day, the idea that one might be attempting to sleep with the sun up (if barely) seemed momentarily outrageous. Of course, she'd not slept either - she'd been wandering, smoking, looking at the stars, talking to Taj at length. Home wasn't far-removed, but it was considerably far enough, and she might have savoured sleep as well, had she thought to partake in such activities yet. The excitement of a new face dulled the hum of sleepiness, and she watched the boy with intense curiosity. He was young yet, only an adolescent, yet already larger than Grace herself. Not that it was particularly a challenge to accomplish that feat, considering the small stature and slight build of the blonde girl. She was insoucient to the fact that most towered over her; her brother had accustomed her to such things. He was a fair bit larger than she was, and had been for some time. He looked profoundly akin to their father, and her to their mother. Curious, given that the similarities inverted from there. Gabriel was their mother's son; Grace, her father's daughter. It was a curious contrast.


She hadn't even noticed the warning outside. Of course, she could read, but she had not been questing for a message to discern. Rather, she sought her avian friend, and now, she had recovered him. The matter was slightly complicated by her also having discovered a strange wolf, although this was neutral territory, and another might have decided that it was not their business. Howbeit, he was of interest to her... however choleric he may have been. And wasn't he so! "Well, I've often seen a wolf without a grin..." she jested, grinning as widely as the cat in the book to which she referred. She had learned to read from her father, despite her mother's protests that such things would turn a perfectly sensible girl into a capricious fairy princess. However, when it came to Grace, most discussions between her parents had ended with her mother throwing up her hands in umbrage. And thus, she had been taught to read, and her favourite book was Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. A fanciful story, but so charming! She had aspired to be the Cheshire Cat in her youth, sitting in trees and attempting to make her body vanish into thin air.


Grace sat back, propping herself on straightened arms. Conversationally, she spoke to him, oblivious to his attempts to be dispiriting. "Good morning! River, eh? I like your name. Where are you from, River? You look rather exhausted. Are you hungry? Would you care for breakfast?" She was bombarding him with questions, surely, but his presence similarly bombarded her with curiosity. As he spoke, she tilted her head and stuck out her tongue a little, burlesquing his allegations and criticisms with blithe face-pulling. "Silly lad!" she exclaimed, her tone mirthful. "Why didn't you sleep? Isn't that what you do at night?" Taj pecked her meaningfully, and she laughed. "Well, 'twasn't what I did last night, either, I suppose. We've both been travelling."


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How would you like a pathetically short post to accompany your dinner, madame?


Word count is 134.



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Question upon question flew from the pale she-wolf's mouth. She was certainly a... boisterous character. River was, frankly, overwhelmed. Surely it was too early for this. "Er, thank you," he said, in response to her compliment. Might as well do this in order. "I'm from further south, an area that the humans called New York." He took it for granted that she'd even know what humans were. He decided not to dignify the comment about his looking exhausted with a response, as he'd already addressed that. "I don't know that I have an appetite," he sighed, "and I didn't sleep because I was doing the same thing you were — traveling." With the slightest joking lilt to his voice, he said, "Actually, I can sleep a lot more than just at night... this is new."
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Haha, nice. Finally! Wink


★ ★ ★


Grace nodded, impressed with his knowledge of history. Her father had told her about humans, of course - he was obsessed with their machines and gadgets, and could talk her ears off on the subject. If she'd been familiar with the Harry Potter tales, she might have made the association between her father and Arthur Weasley. Her knowledge didn't stretch that far, but she knew enough about the human geographical areas to reply, "That's near where I'm from - the mountains, a place humans called Vermont. My family, my tribe... they're still there." She looked sad for a moment, then perked up at River's next comment, laughing at the jest. "Oh, I love to sleep. Too bad I have a cawing alarm-clock to drag me out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn, kicking and screaming." Her turquoise eyes sparkled, and she added, "Not literally, of course - t'would startle the horses something fierce, a crow dragging a wolf about, yelling and making all sorts of racket..." She shook her head, grinning, and added curiously, "Y'like horses, River? Well.. y'ever seen a horse, even?"


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Word count is derp.


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River stretched ostentatiously, and yawned. "Vermont? I've passed through there. Who are your tribe? Do they trade?" He sought something that might connect them — shy as he was, a friend would be good to have. Noticing, however, the forlorn look in her eyes, he took to the change of subject. Horses were not something he'd often encountered. There were a few herds galloping across the sparse plains of his homeland, and a handful of traders had had them for transportation. What sense that made, he wasn't sure. Some just didn't like to be on all four paws, but River found them quite suitable for travel. "Well, I've seen them, but... I can't say I've been near one." He didn't admit it, but he found them a little frightening, as much as they triggered an instinctual prey drive. The same hooved creatures who made a meal for wolves could use those hooves to violent ends. But Grace kept them? Several of them? This piqued his interest. Eyes the color of blue fog examined her as covertly as possible. She didn't look injured...
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Word Count: 303

<3s at your face. Wink


★ ★ ★


Turquoise eyes lit up with pleasure; now he was asking her questions, too! Taj was settled quietly atop her head, an odd sable cap for an equally odd wolf. She leaned against the wall of the cave, yawning lazily and considering the question. "Well, they do trade. That's mostly Mama - her name's Iset. I look just like her... that's about the end of the similarities though!" She chuckled, a smile playing across her face. "Mama's real... well, bossy, really. Abrasive, I guess you'd say. She always thinks she's right. Problem is, she often is." She paused, catching her breath, and shrugged. "Papa's quieter than Mama, real gentle unless you give him a reason not to be. He mostly likes to tinker - that's what he calls it when he works on human contraptions. He crafts a bit, too... wood, mostly." She gestured to her jewelry, too lazy to pull out her pipe and show him. Perhaps another time, when she could be bothered. She was far too comfy.


The discussion of horses reminded her of something else. "My tribe keeps horses, too. They were up in an old human settlement when I was with them... a ski resort, Papa called it. But I don't know where they'd be now." She grinned as she thought of her father, and she went on, "Probably somewhere with relics of the past, though - Papa does so like human machines and things. Leave him to it, and he'd forget to eat or sleep, I reckon..." She shook her head, her smile slightly wistful. She tried not to miss home too much, but she did miss her family. Cheering up, she added, "How could anyone forget sleep? Bet you couldn't!" A grin and a playful nudge served as punctuating for the jest. Even Taj cawed his amusement.


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