Firefly Glen And a Song Well-Sung is a Sung-Well Song So Sing

Toad hadn't strayed far from the old Redhawks territory in the Wilderness. She was, after all, a creature of habit. Though this was a newer habit, she was quite enjoying walking the trails of her siblings in lives long past. She wondered, had Fox still been alive, if she would be walking familiar pathways with the red-dappled creature. The brown wolf imagined they would talk about Fox's worries of her children and grandchildren. They would discuss parenting strategies for any new litters, or perhaps advice on how to let go of older children and let them live their own lives.

The sister smiled at this thought, though she and Fox were far enough away in age that it was unlikely they'd have had much in common. As she smiled and strolled back through the Glen, she nearly ran into an odd-looking creature. She stopped in her tracks several yards away, listening to curses and the altogether foulness that came with "young people these days." The masked wolf was flailing about, trying to pull out hairs on his tail. Whoa, whoa, she called out to him, her voice almost mothering, like she knew him.

What are you trying to do? Her tone was very honest, calm as the clear skies they stood under. She moved closer to him, though far enough that she could get away from him were he not a wolf of sound mind.