Hideaway Strath nothing in comparison to that one minute

Oblivious to the conversation swirling around her, Eirlys busies herself with exploring her surroundings. Infinitesimal paws knead against the curve of her father’s chest as she slowly, laboriously turns herself around and tries with marginal success to scale the hard ridge of his forearm. She “looks” up, her head bobbling unsteadily as she unwittingly turns her attention from Arturo to Hemlock and back again, peeping out from her safe hollow with her white-petaled paws hooked doggedly over her father’s wrist. Her rounded hindquarters shuffle, turtle flippers flopping ineffectually as she emits a furious squeak of protest and loses her balance, tumbling into a soft puddle of fluff. “Hey!” A soft, rhythmic series of cries blares from her tiny mouth like a siren. Like her mother, she wants attention and she wants it now.