Sun Mote Copse What up, I'm Jared, I'm 19, and I never f*cking learned how to read

Towma and Meer were soon in sight; her howl dwindled (woooooooooo...) in favor of the more exciting thing before her very eyes. Quetzal had seen the two of them before, not that she was aware of her earliest memory of them. She just knew she liked them, and that was that. She scrambled to meet Kat (narrator note: author laughed) halfway to sniff and nose-bump excitedly. 

Whatever Meer was saying wasn't translated at all. Her ears had just popped up two days ago after all. Q would soon get the grasp of it all, but she still answered Meerkat with just as much verve as Meer had brought: IIIIIIIIIIIII!!!! Thinking this a proper verbal greeting. Q bounced around her cousling and then made to headbutt Towma's foreleg, every ounce of love in her tiny bean body produced at the affectionate tricerian display. And then she was back to Meerkat again, yelling: UTTTTTT!!! EEE???? As though any of what she said make sense. 

Of course, to Q, it made perfect sense. She was asking if Meerkat knew anything about the food situation out in the great open around them. Q imagined Meerkat was trying to relay the same information to her, but hadn't the right words for them. Q would babytalk her through it. It really didn't matter, the three of them were in this—whatever this was, of course—together.