Heron Lake Plateau the heart

Poor Dad, he couldn't catch a break.

Her protests were met gently, the sudden arrival of his muzzle to soothe her did in fact work—she silenced slowly, sighing as merely the presence of someone or something there reassured that perhaps nothing at all had changed.

But she was deaf to Kite's wailing, but not the shaky movements that defined the pale girl. Phoebe's meek features scrunched again as her source of comfort moved on just as her sister found her to rest upon... and well, she didn't have the energy to protest feeling that comforting contact. Was there a point? She heaved a sigh again, whimpering likened to a quiet grumble as she let her tiny legs stretch out.

This was really exhausting, this existing.