Meadowlark Prairie Searching For An Uncle Of A Friend

They would be making their leave sooner than he thought, and as his mentor swiveled, so did he, pausing to pick up a couple of stems and leaves that had fallen from the larger bundle, carefully holding them as Potema had taught him too. He was once again a shadow at her side, proudly holding aloft his own parcel of goods, however small, as they made their way back toward the Woods. The ones that were his home, but, he knew not how long. The memories and faces of those of the grotto were fading rapidly, the ones made when he was but two and a half months of age not being able to hold fast in his brain. The Woods had imprinted on him as well, and though he did feel homesick, it was not as severe as it may had been should the circumstances be different. But. for now, he was content.