Lost Creek Hollow no time to think, time to sleep now

you should sleep, mama came the soft words of her child: a pragmatic suggestion beyond the scope of marten's limited years. indra's eyelids were heavy and she felt the pull of exhaustion sink under her eyes. it was sage advice and indra would be happy to take it.. but first, she listened to the young apaata detail the troubles of his (in indra's eyes, not-better) other half, who had apparently taken none too kindly to the move.

me neither, rupert indra thought wryly, for while it had been right to leave bearclaw behind, it had not been easy.

at least he was still alive, thought the redleaf quietly - she had seen on more than on occasion an accidental drop, a nudge too hard: that the toad still clung to life was some miracle in the jaded she-wolf's eyes. things for him could be much worse - he could be in the belly of a beast were it not for marten's gentle ministrations and care.

marten had drawn her attention to the trees and for maybe the first time, indra felt the beauty of the hollow settle around them. riotous red and hellish orange tinged the forest, and around them copper and grey trunks gleamed between the brands of fiery color. she smiled at the compliment and reached out to nudge marten: "they're prettier. but i am glad you like it. do you think nuna is settling in okay?"

there, watching her child -- even adoptive -- indra finally felt a semblance of contentment overcome her.. if only all days could be like this...