So this is what motherhood is like.
Or at least, Maleah now had a vague glimpse of what it could be without nearly as much permanence. She'd been in the mossbloom when her name was hollered by a shrill, pitchy voice, and she'd be wrong if she said her curiosity had not been piqued. Edging nearer to the roja den, she catches the tail end of little Miette's stunt; a cloud of beige with the cartoonish form of a little girl at the center.
Wow, look at this, her jaw falls slack in a display of awe; we've got ourselves a little birdie learning how to fly!
Even still as she encourages the play, she is careful — hovering close. All she can see in her mind is Mireille's wrath when Miette inevitably snaps her neck like a popsicle. I'm sure there are better perches, though, hm?

You don't look like a wolf to me, her brow furrows, a wry smile curling the corners of her lips. would a wolf have little wings like these? her teeth playfully snip at the little one's elbow in a secret attempt at herding her to safety. Or a little beak like this? her nose, then, poking near the side of her short little snout.
Would it be horrible of her to pick favorites among Mireille's children?
Come down, and I'll show you the best perch I know. and what she would not say is that she didn't have one yet. They'd go, perhaps, to the shore; they'd find a small ledge, or even a branch above the sea where Maleah could catch her before she could get hurt; she'd even offer her own shoulders, for with her height, they were not too far from the ground.
Either way, the sea seemed to be the best bet. That was, if she knew how to swim. Maybe she should ask that first. Can you swim, Miette?

Something told Maleah she should not believe her fully. Or perhaps she was just paranoid.
Okay, okay, she holds herself steady with feet sunken into the ground — the barrelling of a little puppy's entire upper body into your side was surprisingly hard to withstand — and when she sees a way out from this barrage, gently motions for the babe to follow her. we're gonna go down to the beach, yeah?
If she were lucky, she'd find a distraction there or somewhere along the way in hopes that the little birdie at her hands would not take flight.
She holds a slow trot as she sets her sights on the tunnel; always careful not to outpace little Miette, honey-lemon eyes fixing upon her every so often. What do you like to do besides flying, little birdie?

Miette seems ecstatic, and for that Maleah was grateful. If she hadn't liked the idea of the beach, she wasn't quite sure what she would have done! They pass through the respite and out towards the meadow, tall grass tendrils licking at her ankles as the trill of insects drone in the soundscape of midday.
I do know Astera, she quips, a wiggle to her eyebrows. she and I play games too, and she helped me learn the names of the plants and flowers that grow here. the tunnel's entrance comes into view, and she now allows the pudgy body of Miette to toddle in front of her. Maybe one day I could teach you.
But for today, Miette is a child — a little pumpkin darksprite under her care. And when Maleah gazes upon the little girl, feels the touch of her chubby paws and watches her toothy grin spread, something bittersweet inside her aches.
A yearning for simplicity long lost and perhaps never known.

Interest in Maleah's craft from a youngling made her more excited than she would ever let on, cheeks pinched as her smile curls. You do? she whistles, ears flicking at the sharp holler that bounces and ricochets from the tunnel walls and into her bones. She swears she can feel it in the ground.
The sunlight splinters across narrow features in a flurry of gold-blue hues as they reach the end of the tunnel. Okay, I have two choices for you, ginger is her touch as she guides the girl to the shore, stride now slowed to a lazy bound. we can either go to the spot, oooor, her eyebrows wag. we could go find some flowers for your maman. Or for you. Whatever you want.

Okay, okay, Panic ensues. She didn't have a spot; where the hell was the spot going to be? we'll go to the spot.
Slinking forward, Maleah ducks and raises her head again, searching; the spiny cliff overhead? No, no, that could result in a baby Miette with two halves of a whole head. A curved log, damp with saltbrine and covered in moss? No, that's just lame. The arch that hangs above the cliffs? Absolutely not!
Every bone in her body says bad idea, and no attempts to thwart the determined seasprite's agenda have worked. She had to find a spot.
And then she sees it, her escape from the potential wrath of a toddler; a large, flat boulder sitting a skirt away from the shore, massive and hefty enough to walk on. The waves lap against the side of it. You see that big rock? Maleah hops forward with a giddy little skip, thrumming with excitement. That's our spot!

Just a rock. Just a rock? It's not just a rock, she retorts, returning with her own scoff. it can be whatever you want it to be! You can dive off of it, you can sunbathe, you can, um, what did children do for fun, actually? you can conquer it! It's yours!
Maleah gently tugs at the downy scruff belonging to Miette with the tips of her teeth. C'mon, I'll help you swim over to it. her feet touch the caked sand smoothed down by salted waves, subconsciously shielding the child with the curve of her arm in case a particularly large crash came down upon them. you wanted to find a new perch, right, little bird? It could be your perch!

Miette insists she is not, in fact, a bird, even while she scrabbles for purchase and climbs the seaslime-coated boulder with what may as well have been a fledgling's gait. Maleah bumps her nose against the red-tinted hocks of the girl in an effort to assist before she, too, climbs her way up in a few swift jolts.
She circles once, then twice, before taking a seat on the precipice of her newfound lookout. Isn't it cool up here? she casts a devilish look to her tiny companion; she thought it was cool, at least, even if Sobeille was impossible to appease. Tendrils of seaweed bob and hug the base of their fort, and she swore she could see a cluster of tiny fish nearing the surface.

You like it?! the whooping and hollering from beyond the crux of Maleah's shoulder clues her in; it brings a wispy smile to narrow-edged features as her paw reaches out to prevent the darksprite from toppling over the edge. I knew you would.
Thank you, loa, for saving me from the wrath of Miette.
The shadownight head tips back to bask in the rays that burst from between the clouds, a soft inhale sucked inward. Birds like to sit on rocks too, you know, she prepares herself to be whooped with a two-toned paw after that one. maybe we're both birds.

What did my nose do to you? Maleah retorts indignantly. She felt the urge to comment something about how this child, likely, had no idea who her father was, and how she could potentially grow up to have a pelican nose just as well. A pretty mother was only one half of the gene pool; but Mireille could not possibly have that bad of taste, could she? You just don't wanna admit that I'm cool.
She wonders who Miette seemingly inherited the haughtiness from.
She suddenly eases downward into a sprawl, forepaws tipped over the blackstone edge. I'm gonna sunbathe. I need to get one last good sun-bleach before the summer ends. I will still be watching you.