Golden Glade Sand is what we're really made of

And there it was, the feeling of flying; Sorrel wagged her tail at the sensation as mom corralled her wriggling body back between her paws. Lately, the little babe was growing more and more restless, especially today when something felt out of the ordinary. With her hind-quarters lashing furiously, the pale pup let Eden clear her fur of all cave matter she'd managed to acquire during her romp and, as her tongue swept over her eyes, shapes began to appear amidst a myriad of blinding lights and shadows. For some, the experience might've been one of fear and not, but for Sorrel it only fuelled her excitement. Reaching up to place a series of nibbling kisses along mother's jawline, she noticed a few new blurry shapes had entered the den.

"Sowwwel," she cooed back, repeating what muffled sounds she was now able to hear. "Sowel sowel." Tumbling out of Eden's grasp, the youngster stumbled over to the brown blurs, nose working full time as their scents mingled. Both felt enticingly unfamiliar and both were better worth investigating than her misplaced stone.