Sun Mote Copse I can swallow a bottle of alcohol and I'll feel like Godzilla

Uhm, without me???? 

First things first, Quetzal was the opposite of miss independent. And FOMO, unidentifiable as it was in words, was something she felt viscerally when Alyx moved. Had she the capabilities and the faculties, she would have lifted her head to whip it around to pinpoint what the hell was happening here. As Niamh's good fortune would have it, Quetzal was incredibly slow on the pickup and it took her thirty real-time seconds to gather that something... is not right. 

And when that happened, she was up in arms. What wasn't right? Why wasn't she told about this sooner? Okay, time to figure this out. Turning at the pace of a sloth, Quetzal found her first barrier in either Primrose, or a bodypart of her mother. How... how dare you intervene! Nothing would stop her from finding her missing piece, and so she slumped backward before thrusting forward in an impressive display of ferociousness to behave the battering ram to her offending obstacle. 

All that in mind, there was nothing ferocious about it. Quetzal's pace and method was identical to that of a salted slug. 

But she felt satisfied. So she rotated a little more... hoping to find that missing piece. Yelling loudly as though she had bat sonar to get a good read on it all, for good measure.