Lost Creek Hollow Island of memories we'll leave them where they lie

once the paste was applied (to no shortage of winces, mind you -- sionnach had to inform everyone in the room she was long-suffering and brave for withstanding such awful, stingy poultices) sionnach stepped back, her tail held at a slow wag. despite gannet being involved in the single most traumatic event of her life, sionnach did not look upon him unfavorably: he had treated her quite gently, and even encouraged her where she felt her bravery wavering. sionnach was perhaps fond of him, though she would never admit she liked any adult to anyone who dared ask.

her brush with the porcupine could have hardly been called a fight, but sionnach puffed up importantly, already having her own interpetation of what truly had happened. of course, she had been a victim -- a victim of cruel circumstance and a rather alarmingly fast tail. "hmmhmm," the girl nodded solemnly, attempting to convey that she was not daunted from her obvious near scrape with terminal ugliness.