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

The young lad seemed a bit pensive, but Toad supposed that was to be expected given she was a stranger. Toad herself used to be more wary of strangers, but pack life had solidified her largely trusting personality. She was not, however, naive, and knew that sitting for a person she didn't know would make her uncomfortable as well.

When he did sit, she laid down to get a better angle and to prevent straining her neck. Gawain, he introduced, and she smiled. Toad put one of her paws firmly on the base of the hairs of his tail, being careful not to step on the actual flesh. That's a nice name, she said honestly, partially do distract him while she applied pressure to the roots of his fur and pulled out a few burrs. By applying this pressure, it would reduce the pain by breaking the hairs instead of pulling the entire hairs out.

So, you live close by? She hadn't met many in the area. Toad was still unsure of what she planned to do with herself now that she had visited the famed Caldera. Finding a reasonable pack seemed like the next logical step, but she had no idea how to guide herself on choosing what wolves she would call family. Her work continued, separating the burrs carefully with her incisors, then periodically applying pressure and pulling them out.