Sleepy Fox Hollow we are love

She’d known how it would go, but Wylla was no less amused at being proven right. Emmerich was hot on her heels, pushing boundaries the way only he knew how. There was almost no hesitation in him, and when he tumbled at her feet, she laughed and blew air against his whiskers and bounded a few steps further.

Isa was more reluctant, and with a whining protest for every step taken. By now, Wylla had grown tired of her neediness. The girl was perfectly healthy and no longer sported that alien green pigment in her fur. Mahler had been right, and Wylla felt foolish for having coddled Isa so much in those early days, because now she was a menace when seeking attention. She regretted it and combated it by giving in less and less to those demands. Isa whined and Wylla ignored it, instead slapping her paws to try to coax her further out.

Anselm was the least eager of all. She’d known he would be. Anselm was practically lackadaisical next to his siblings and likely wanted nothing more than to curl up for his tenth nap of the day. Only when Mahler nudged him forward did he seem to perk up, bumbling toward mother and brother alike. Wylla grinned.

This is Sleepy Fox Hollow, she told them, straightening to gesture at the world around. The den was dug under the long side of a log that stretched across a lazy river. Rushes grew all around. On this side of the river there was a colossal stone in the distance, and fields stretching miles on either side of it. The roar of the falls was a constant here by the densite, but hushed, almost as though it knew there were little bodies sleeping here. They would stay here for some time yet, sharing walks like this, and little by little, the puppies would expand their range on their own time.

Bet I can run faster than you, she challenged brash little Emmerich and sleepy Anselm, giving the ground another clap of her paws before bolting several long strides away from them.