The Sentinels the world moves on without a sound

as his grooming continued with no outcry from the whelp, tachyon felt the nagging sense of suspicion. the last time he had extended his salon-services to deirdre, she had wholly protested. with a whuff tachyon shifted the entire of his weight, likely pushing little deirdre from the nook of his chest. he peered down at the small wolf with a playful squint, turning his muzzle to the side as if about to perform some impish deed. "wait a minute." the druid spoke softly, his nose seeking the round softness of deirdre's cheek: "no protest today?"