Blackfeather Woods a bad thought is blossoming behind my skull

 

i don't mind at all!

out of all the things she'd expected, this had not been one of them — stumbling out of the woods is a babe, grotesquely disfigured by nature and inbreeding.  the most animal part of her brain states that if this were her child she'd have culled him at birth with a quick snap of that short spine, and that he is still young enough to do so —

but he is not hers, and savage as she was this was not someting she would mess with.  curiously, she cranes her head down slow to position herself eye-to-eye with the peculiar child so he didn't have to crank his neck at such an uncomfortable angle.

he barks at her, something incomprehensible but assertive and she cocks her head, vocalizing back at him with a bark of her own that tapers off into a questioning grumble.  her ears swivel forward, cupped at the top of her skull before sliding back against its delicate curveature.