Hushed Willows You're my starlight and I'm your skyline

@Blossom! Reverie called out into the willows, voice muffled by the gnarled length of driftwood she carried with her. She'd found it along the bed of a river, and had spent some time draping it with flowers and vines she knew to be safe, anticipating that Blossom would chew them. Now she brought it with the intention of making it the first decoration in a den of her daughter's choosing, a space of her own.
Of course it was tempting to keep her daughter near to her for the rest of her life, but it was beginning to become... awkward. It had been different with the girl's father, who never touched Reverie except chastely. They might have kept her in their own den forever. But things had changed, and so it was time for Blossom to move into her own room.
Blooossssssooooommmmmm, Reverie called out again, eyes searching through the trees. Where was she?

Momma?

The girl peered through a sheet of willow, first her nose, then the rest of her features, eyes owlishly blinking. Blossom found the golden hues of her mother easily, offering her a back and forth sweep of her tail as she came dancing over. 

Whats that for? She asked, curious, but ever pleased to be around Reverie. She ducked her head to give a childish butt of her head to her mother’s shoulder, tail speeding into a blur.

Blossom appeared quickly, soothing the small surge of anxiety that rose in Reverie the second time she called for her daughter. She giggled around the driftwood when Blossom headbutted her, then set it down. This is for your den, Reverie explained softly, tail waving.
You're old enough now to pick one of your own. We'll decorate it together, and we can make a cache next to it, Eventually they would have to teach her how to hunt for herself, she and Boone, but for now Reverie would fill the cache herself. Already it hurt her heart to think of Blossom hunting, Blossom with blood staining her mouth. No, not yet.
And I'll always be just a shout away, okay? I promise, Reverie added after a moment.

Her eyes went wide. Her own den? That was a thing she could have?

She considered it. A space where she would be alone if she needed, where she could bring back as many animals as she wanted and not be told to let them go, where she could bring in whole branches of flowers! And not have everyone sneezing!

Blossom smiled, her tail a blur as she looked at her mother.

Okay! She stood in place.

How do we find a den? That was a skill she had not quite learned yet.

Reverie, too, was a bit lost on specifics; finding dens was not one of her skills. It was something they'd never done in The Gilded Sea, and the dens she'd had since had always been rather... unconventional. But she knew a little, so after a brief hesitation, she started to explain what she did know.
Well, you can either pick something already made, like a cave or an old den abandoned by someone else, or you can dig out your own. Um, it should be uphill from water so it doesn't flood. Somewhere you can get a lot of sunlight. No one likes a dark damp den, Well, maybe some people did, but surely not her daughter, who had grown up partially in vast caves and partially ranging across the wilds. Do you want to stay near my den? Or go a little farther?

Blossom stared for a moment, her brain connecting the dots as quickly as it possibly could. The processing power of Blossom.exe wasn’t great, but it was passible, she was sure.

It clicked, and she smiled.

Caaave! Her voice rose into a quick aria, before she wiggled in place, hopping to the front of her mother.

Oh, I’ll know it when I see it, I’m sure! Her intuition was fine tuned! She was an excellent navigator of what was good and what was not.

All her hesitation fell away with Blossom's joyful exclamation. Reverie couldn't hold in her delighted laughter, and leaned in to kiss her daughter's forehead when she stilled. I know you will, She said fondly, confident in Blossom's ability to choose for herself what she wanted.

Alright - you're in charge now. Lead the way, Commander Blossom, Reverie picked up the driftwood again and straightened with faux-gravitas, ready to follow wherever the girl led. For a moment she wished that this could last forever; here, now, this exact place in time and space. Blossom's smile was brighter than any sunrise, her joy warmer than any summer afternoon. Such things could never last.

But in the next moment she discarded the thought, resolving to protect that innocence at any cost. She would never let Blossom's smile fade.

Blossom giggled at the kiss to her forehead, sloppily folding a paw over her nose in bashful shyness. She wiggled in place happily, before bouncing off in a random direction.

Thiswaythiswaythisway! She happily chirped, bounding like a doe. Her tail was like a looping flag.

Of course, the moment she saw a hole, she stuck her nose into it. Unfortunately, it was a hollow in a tree, and it was currently filled by an incredibly disgruntled squirrel, who chattered and barked until Blossom managed to pop her muzzle out of the hole, falling over onto her back. She blinked up at the sky.

Oops!

Reverie followed, marveling at the sheer energy of youth. Even at the peak of her own activity, she did not have such an endless reserve of enthusiasm; not anymore. She wondered, distantly, if adulthood would render Blossom as tired and subdued as it had her. But she didn't have long to linger on such thoughts.

She nearly dropped the driftwood when Blossom shoved her muzzle into the home of an unsuspecting squirrel. Reverie set it down quickly. Careful! It might have - Her words were cut off by her daughter's fall. Reverie blinked, and finished more quietly: Rabies.

I don't think that hole is big enough for you, She added after a moment, barely stifling her laughter.

She moved to help Blossom up, and when her daughter had gathered herself again, they continued on their way. Their little tour of the territory brought them across several miles until they found the right spot. Blossom seemed to know immediately that she wanted it for her den, and Reverie could only smile at the sight of her certainty. She and Lestan had done well, she thought. They'd raised their daughter to choose what would make her happy.

She only wished he could be here to see it, too.