Redhawk Caldera So you can say letting go is easy

Finley did receive a response, but it was only a weary, sub-par response to begin with. Sassafras fluttered her eyelashes in a purely reactionary manner as a distant voice tried to reach her through the frigid winter wind before realizing that the voice wasn’t distant at all, but directly before her. She blinked bleary eyes that searched for said voice, found she couldn’t quite focus just yet, and touched her nose to one of her front paws for a moment, presumably to collect herself. As far as she could tell, she was neither dead nor dreaming.

“— up,” was the first syllable she heard clearly. With a faint squeak of a whine, she obediently pulled herself to unsteady feet, not exactly dragging her own sorry carcass away from the tiny sapling, but possibly eliciting a similar response in terms of pity even if Finley turned out to have a heart two sizes too small. As it was, Sassafras still wasn’t entirely sure who was commanding her away, but she had quite forgotten where she was or how she had gotten there, so entwined in the scant, filmy remnants of her sleep cycle.

When she eventually managed to process the rest of what the dusky grey formation of fur had said (she could make out basic shapes now) she quietly uttered the word fragment, “s—rry,” and began to trundle her truly sorry, wavering way away from Redhawk Caldera.