Wapun Meadow i have no mother, i have no father, i have no face

All friends, two of three ladies agreed. The third, Venninne, did not need to verbally confirm for Olive to know that she felt the same way — her playful antics and good-naturedness spoke for her. As the shewolf watched her dart to and fro, she couldn’t help but be reminded [memories, always!] of Carina and the sheepdog’s own dancing, sweeping body language. Olive had always the tendency to rely to heavily on her words to rationalize her world, and perhaps that's why she always gravitated towards the silent types...

and perhaps there was nothing wrong with that.

The woman who seemed so much like herself — stoic, serene — turned and formally invited her into their play. Olive was thrilled. With the corners of her mouth curling into a most authentic grin, she but took one small step in the direction of the cat-and-mouse pair, not wanting to seem overly eager. “How can I say no?” She questioned laughingly, utterly swept up the spontaneity of it all, and loped behind the two who chased. Olive, a lithe and featherlight thing, was fast and able to turn on a dime — but she stowed the majority of her agility in this case, happy to follow the other’s lead. They played the hostesses, and she, merely their guest.