Fairspell Meadow when'd this just become a mortal home?

Sometime into the earliest hours of light she had finally succumbed to sleep. Sakhmet had been delicately tucked into her side and while once she had feared the children for their frailness of newborns, the girl's presence was greatly welcomed. Ruddy fur masked her vision and lulled her into red-tinted dreams. The incident, failures, and cracking of trees were all present in her dreams.

If she had not been so undeniably lustful for slumber then perhaps she would have attempted to raise herself from the bad dreams. Instead she fought through them all while the waking world's time ticked by. Sakhmet had left her side some time in the morning undoubtedly but it was the child's voice that raised her come nightfall.

"Are you. . .?"

She heard not what the child had asked and merely offered a disgruntled kick of her good leg, a sign of life. If she had been more attentive in her half-conscious state perhaps she would have heard the worry in the Melonii's voice, likely thinking the Morta was dead from all her slumber. A tug on her ear was felt and she offered a sharp grumble with an empty click of her teeth. Come. She ordered hoarsely as she finally tempted silver eyes to crack open. The child was a fretful looking thing in the pale of the moonlight. The Morta would seek to soothe the fears though as she attempted to settle the girl down for sleep.

Once her goal was met with at least half-certainty of success, Jakoul attempted to meander off on her own. Although she did not make it far from her resting place before she reclined onto her rear. If she could not patrol the borders then, perhaps, she could scout the skies and see if the clouds might break to give her a view.