Silvertip Mountain I got guns in my head and they won't go

June carried herself with long, limber strides in the direction of the skittering mouse. In response, it began to scurry faster and was soon fleeing, and the yearling followed with a yip, her mannerisms reminiscent of a half-grown pup rather than a full-grown one. That wasn't to say June was behind in all areas or always behaved thusly. It was whenever her attention was pulled by something very compelling that June showed her youth to the world, and not only that, but the result of her early birth and stunted development as well.

She trailed the mouse a little further before her head whipped up in response to another distraction at the edge of her periphery: a flash of grey-white conspicuous against the mountainous terrain. Nose a-quiver, June stood tall momentarily and when she recognized the dappled back and the rich brown of tail and ears, she hurried to catch up, running parallel to the borders. Without noticing that she'd already been spotted, the yearling breathlessly called out, "dad!"