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

It had been a while since Toad had tended to young ones. She had long had a soft spot for pups and yearlings, but particularly those who were coming of age and needed true guidance from an elder. Though Toad did not consider herself a wise creature, she was a fair listener, and had many times recounted a relevant story.

As the young male relaxed some, Toad slowly moved toward him, careful to keep her ears a bit low and her posture relaxed. She moved to his side and took a look at his tail. Tsk, tsk, you've really knotted this up haven't you? She gave a whispering laugh through her nose, and began nipping at a burr with just her front teeth. She grated them against the fur in such a way to separate the hairs.

I'm Toad, by the way, she said between her work. Oh, can you sit down? I can make it less painful when I pull them that way.