Dragoncrest Cliffs Radio reminds me of my home far away.

Dacio willed the sun away, furrowing his brow in attempt to dim its rays without the knowledge of being able to avoid it simply by turning his head away. He twitched the very twitch of his stubby little tail in annoyance, before he squeaked in objection; the present adult in the den ought to read his mind as she often did, and block out the brightness.

It was not Portia to aid him, however. Instead, a blurred hero of golden hue stepped through the entrance to their family hollow and, able to pair his scent to that of his other parent figure, Dacio mewled softly to himself in delight. His stormy eyes blinked up at his father who came to hover over his tiny body, for whom he mustered a happy "arrrrf."