Sun Mote Copse i could do this with my eyes closed

When Otter’s nose pressed against his cheek, he turned to nip fondly at her nose before resuming his exploration of the log. When he was fairly confident he understood the general dimensions of it, he reared onto his hind legs, forefeet planted on its damp, mossy bark.

Unaware that his litter mate’s question was directed at their mother, Skip answered, Yog, Udder! Fee!

Behind him, he heard their mother sound out the word “log” (and, unbeknownst to him, sign it too), then mention it might even be the place where she’d been born. It came out like a question, her voice drifting in a way that told Skip she’d turned her head. He heard grandma say something a bit further behind them.

But he wasn’t really paying attention to their conversation. Skip’s tail wiggled as he thumped one forepaw, then the other, on the hollow wood. It made a delightful sound!