Bearclaw Valley and we'd break under the weight of any pressure that was ever applied

indra was for a moment at a loss for words; she eyed her bright-eyed child, and then eyed the "expensively decorated" housing marten had carefully crafted. to some it might have been a hovel, but indra felt a warmth seeping into her heart that marten could be so caring, so tender, so strangely compassionate.

obviously, he wasn't her child.

she smiled at the makeshift prison home and marten's comment, though a frown followed quickly after. "what do toads eat?" she had no idea; bugs, perhaps? how would he keep the thing from escaping -- or more importantly, how would he keep the toad well fed? indra positively abhorred the idea of sharing food with such a creature, and would resolutely draw the line at rupert being fed table scraps, no matter how cute or unblinking his weird eyes were.