Swiftcurrent Creek Under the kitchen lights, you still look like dynamite

She listened to the rustle of the leaves until the time that Tiercel arrived, in a huff and with a story on her tongue. It was everything Wylla could do not to smirk into the dirt; her kid was cute but also imagination. The der was osso fath. Wylla agreed, but to give any indication of liveliness would ruin her game, and she couldn't possibly do that.

As ever, her single offspring was bound to make it difficult to keep up the charade. First she had to stifle a wince and the urge to whirl around and snap at her daughter when her fur was pulled. Some more babbling from the black-furred babe threatened to make her ears twitch but she fought it. It was like fighting an itch, and she could almost feel the figurative sweat beading on her forehead. TEW TIED? hollered Tiercel, and Wylla pressed her eyelids tighter together.

You're dead, you can't move, not even an inch, she told herself as she waited for Tiercel to finally realize that this was a Problem.