Arrow Lake I come bearing late gifts

The mother in question had awoken only moments early from a fitful snooze; the day’s warmth was somewhere between almost perfect and mildly muggy, and the sun continued to shy behind the skirts of laden clouds. But the sky was blue, and Aurëwen could not sleep, and she spent what little time rousing before intending to let the children out to play.

Being so stagnant in such indecisive weather didn’t take kindly with her— and opportunity came in the form of a gruff calling of her name.

Ears splayed back with uncertainty, although the tone sounded familiar; and eventually, Aure rose, made her way from the thicket, only to find none other than the burly huntress— ”Kazimir, hello,” she greeted, after a guilty lapse of memory, and offered up a little smile as she glanced back to see if balaur and belea would follow. ”How is everything?”