Fox's Glade have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets

she burrowed her head into sif's warm chest, allowing for the first time since her arrival in the teekons for her pelt to be cleaned.  underneath lay a bright and rather unmarred alabaster.

the words she used to describe her previous dwellings brought forth the most vague memories.  she knew not of an ocean, but fields of tall grass were familiar.  as for her traveling companion, she is sorry to hear of his death.. but if not for it, sif would not have been led here.  she nuzzles closer.

you? from where?

hella reaches back as far as she can remember, to the searing white bolt of lightning that'd struck her.  perhaps she came from nowhere.  perhaps she was created, not born.  she simply offers a shrug in response, unable to give an adequate answer.

you laike't here?