Sun Mote Copse I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies

Weejay held tight to her mother still, though she looked up as Wildfire offered a story about flowers. Rendered mute by her apprehension, Weejay could only summon a nod in response. She wrapped her little paws tighter around her Mommy's thin arm, looking up only as her mother shifted away and gently tucked a dandelion into the crease of her velvety ears. Weejay could not muster her usual bright grin, but a short smile briefly crossed her features before it was eclipsed by a child's wide-eyed dread. She wanted to listen to her Mommy's story, of course, but she also was so overwhelmed by the change that had overcome Wildfire.