Neverwinter Forest let me give you my life

her fur, puffed slightly from excitement in recounting the tale of her rotten mean father, begins to smooth down as she's cozied against her mother's soft fur. she is still young enough that the rushing emotions of the day make her drowsy, lulled further by mama's reassurances of protection. of course mama will keep her safe, she doesn't doubt it for a second. aloud she says, "'kay," in the way one might say, i'll allow it, despite the edge of sleepiness tugging her voice down. 

mama asks about about the island. she can't remember much, impressions of the den, of warm sand, of the water that frightened her when they left. but the impressions are soothing, too, of her snug early infancy. "sorta," she answers honestly, blinking up at her, unsure why she's asking. are they going back? reed considers that briefly, decides it's not a terrible idea. "it was pretty," she adds, in case mama needs a reason to return: her aesthetic judgement.