Sun Mote Copse we're not weird, we just seem like we are.

Elfie didn't seem willing to be placated by her grooming, but Fin was not easy to deter. She'd raised enough troublesome little Blackthorns to have earned the iron will of a mother wolf when it came to caring for creatures that would rather she take a hike. Partnered with the stubbornness that came from simply being a Blackthorn, Elfie's fate was sealed. He was going to be cleaned into submission, like it or not.

She grinned to herself when his grumbles weakened into half-hearted, mumbled protests. "There we go," she cooed between strokes, "Now you belong to me, my newest little minion." Fin's tail wagged with amusement at her own humor. She slowed her ministrations, though kept him firmly snuggled in her arms. "Now tell me, which nickname do you prefer? Elwoofwoof? Or Eljayjay? Go 'Ermmaflghhrrr' if you like Elwoofwoof or 'Grrmmrrrmrrrflrrr' for Eljayjay."