The Sentinels Gift Of Love

Cas wasn't in the den, she found, but it was moments later that his deep, soothing voice questioned from behind her. Pulling back from the den, the cream little flower pranced delightedly over to her guardian, jaws held high to present  a slobber covered, pearly pink shell from the shore. Her front paws were caked with wet sand, but the rest of her, this time, was clean. Once Witch had found a well worn path from the den to the nearest part of the ocean, it was often the only place she went. Most days she came back covered in mud, sand, clay, moss or a mix of it all, uncaring and fully uncaring of what her unruly fire-kissed pelt looked like. 

Her blue(ish) orbs shone as she reared up at him, but her shoulders shrugged. She didn't know what it was called: who better to teach her than her guardian ?