Dragoncrest Cliffs do you know where your heart is.

Never do her eyes leave the boy. Her ears cupped forward listen distinctly to their surroundings and their threat is low so close to Hougeda. If they were further in the redwoods, or even out of the territory, her attention would have stretched much farther than their immediate surroundings. Each move her son makes, she notes, and eventually he no longer pays attention to her. His drive his admirable and she eases some of her posture, taking a slow and silent step forward, only to hear the same tiny whimper he has.

Her head tilts, ears cupped forward upon her head, and her nose flares to pull in exactly what he’s looking at as he pushes through the foliage. Thuringwethil takes a few more steps closer just as he glances over his shoulder to look at her. With the decision he has made, she moves closer and stands nearby, peaking through the shrubbery at what he’s found.

The misplaced baby fox makes another sound as she gets a look, staring for a long moment. Foxes are more of a nuisance than anything and if there’s a child, there’s a mother. Artaax is big enough that he can’t be kidnapped by the pest but damage is still possible. Getting rid of this may cause the wrath of the mother but there is little concern that she can’t handle the creature if it comes for them.

“When there is a child, a mother is never far,” she explains, glancing around for signs of an enraged vixen coming for them. “Foxes are often a pester to us. Can you tell if she’s nearby? Or been here recently?” she asked, her nose twitching against to reconfirm whether or not she’s nearby, ears cupped forward for the hissing that is surely to come.