Wheeling Gull Isle your grace is wasted in your face

He seemed displeased with her imitation, how strange. Both her her mothers, night and earth, praised her when she mimicked there actions. He had told her to stop in a rather colorful set of words and made a growling sound, so she mimicked that sound as well. Her chest puffed and a pitiful growl came, her teeth still bared bit there was no anger behind it. Just a simple imitation.

Her growl died and she tilted her head once more, something about mothers. Oh, she had two of those and so she tried to say that. "..tooo maaass," that didn't come out right, "tooo mamaaaas." well this was frustrating.