Bearclaw Valley No, child, you cannot have grenades or assault rifles in the classroom

could she laugh, she might have doneso alongside her child's cherubic giggles.

for the briefest, most transcendent piece of time, it was just the two of them running through sunny glade, laughing --

and then his feet got away from him, and his topheavy body overturned. astara winced as he streaked like an upended comet, her stride lengthening in concern as he tumbled roughly to a careening halt.

it looked painful; she inspected his detritus studded fur carefully, and sniffed roughly along his neck and spine. suddenly, it didn't seem like playtime anymore - and even though puppies were naturally clumsy, astara was overcome with mother-hen worry. she attempted a lick across the boy's skull, wondering if he would cry or carry on.