Flycatcher Downs until we go down

Whatever she expected from this girl, it wasn't an invitation to hunt with her. And it definitely wasn't the familiar murky green gaze that peered out from her face of burnished gold. Eilidh swallowed, knowing her father had been prolific in his lovemaking. In her youth, Eilidh had ignored the signs, but in the years since she'd seen others like him, men who had mate and family, and yet who still dallied with lovers. It was not an often occurrence, but enough for her to remember her father's past actions.

Strangely enough, she did not hate him for it. Rather, she was excited at the prospect of perhaps having a bit of him back. Lasher could never be replaced, but perhaps with her family nearby, she could feel closer to him. She wished to return to the sentinels to remember him, to convene with his ghost as Emaleth once had with other spirits in the trees.

Eilidh remembered herself suddenly, a sheepish grin crossing her muzzle. I apologize if I seem far away. You remind me of someone. She shook her head. But I must be imagining things. What is our target?