The Butterfly

Aine nods again. "Greetings, Thistle, and ye may call me Aine. Thank ye fer both the welcome and where I can find a den." The silver character tilted her head. "There is no need to be apologizin' ter me. Pups within a few weeks' time must be heavy,"

Aine stretched leisurely and yawned, her pink tongue curling upwards as she did so. She rise back up and shook herself, her pelt seeming to almost shimmer in the dappled sunlight.

She looked back at Thistle. "Now, what may I do ye fer, Mi' dear?"