Phantom Hollow her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film

She feels sluggish as of late, not her normal self. Sluggish and sans appetite; she has not engaged in a patrol in some time, and barely has enough energy to mark even small portions of the border. But there is no coughing or sneezing, no discharge, so she chalks it up to old age rather than some sort of sickness she is loath to spread to the pups. They should be safe from her—for now.

Megara travels to the whelping den, eager to see her great-nieces and nephews. It has been too long, and they are all growing like weeds. She croons softly for @Venamis, @Lumiya, @Zan, and @Revan, tail beating gently against the ground behind her.

At her paws is an old, polished antler, perfectly preserved over the seasons, glowing a soft ivory in the pale evening light. A toy for the future leaders of the Melonii. May they grow healthy and strong.