Heron Lake Plateau ne les laisse pas la ternir

The fleeting look of shame that passed like a shadow over the girl’s dark face warmed Raven’s heart and she grinned. She couldn’t be mad at any of them, no matter how much chaos and destruction they wrought upon the well-manicured lawn that used to be her structured and orderly life. They were just too cute, especially when they knew they were caught in the act and couldn’t talk their way out of it.

She waved her tail and nosed the girl lightly, kissing her on the cheek as she did. It’s okay, the gesture seemed to say. Raven rarely ever let her frustration show with them. She never wanted them to grow up feeling like they were trouble or like their mother didn’t love them. The things they did, no matter how much they danced upon the straining wires of her last nerves, were only natural for growing, curious pups, and that curiosity and zest for life and learning and exploration were not things she could ever bring herself to squash. She was generous with admonishment and chiding, sure, but it was always administered with the practiced patience of a seasoned caretaker and healer.

The little bird asked her what she was doing, and she answered, ”Finding some new plants to make medicine with. Wanna help?” She doubted Phoebe would actually take a legitimate interest in her craft — or any trade, for that matter — for some time, but what pup didn’t like running around pulling up flowers?