Hideaway Strath that is the thing that calls to all of my kind

Roarke draws in a deep breath and lets it out, resting his eyes against the pleasant warmth of the sun. Slowly, his head lowers until his chin is resting upon his front paws. Feeling lazy and with a belly content and full of breakfast suddenly makes the typically active boy incredibly sleepy. He does not have many days like this, partially of his parents designs as their lives are full of lessons now, but also of his own design because he likes moving and training and sparring. Despite these things, Roarke begins to doze off. It is a light sleep, keeping him alert enough to be aware of approach …at first. It is not long before he enters a deeper stage of sleep as he naps and he does not hear Mallaidh’s approach. Until she careens and crashes against him. Startled, Roarke is suddenly jostled from his unintentional nap, horribly disoriented as his heart pounds in his chest as he struggles to understand what has crashed against him. No, not what. Who. “Mol?” He asks, voice thick with the stubborn vestiges of sleep that refused to leave, just like his confusion. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath as, slowly, he becomes much more aware of his surroundings and increasingly aware that it is, indeed, Mallaidh whom has crashed into him.