The Sentinels where dips the rocky highland of sleuth wood in the lake

She protested at first, a small and hoarse squall, for she wanted what had come out to go back. But the Source began to clean her fur with rhythmic strokes of tongue, and Emaleth was lulled into comfort. Milk was forgotten; her belly had truly been overfull, and the discomfort she had felt was ebbing.

As the Source tickled against her round belly, Emaleth found herself giggling without knowing what it was. Her tiny paws protested against the sensation, flailing against it, though it was oddly enjoyable.