Sun Mote Copse Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Please don't skip me unless I've granted permission to do so!

Before Alyx could manage to blink the glaring light out of her eyes, Niamh arrived to pluck her cubs one by one from the lawn and drop them in a neat row on the threshold. Anyone who ever tried to corral young pups together for a photograph would know how ineffectual lining them up was; even while Niamh replied to Wraen, Primrose was trying to break out of his leggy jail and Quetzal was gauging for the right opportunity to try to flee past their large grey visitor.

Alyx, on the other hand, was neither caged between Niamh's legs nor interested in escape. When Quetzal moved, Alyx began toddling in the opposite direction, toward Wraen's other side, although not in a bid for freedom. She was much more interested in something small, round and yellow in the grass next to the Sovereign's paw, which she tried to clamber over to better reach the little flower.