Neverwinter Forest lxxiv. we'll go swim our cares away

The presence of her youngest -- no, not quite anymore, the dove thought as her gaze flickered down to Fjall -- was not immediately detected. Wilwarin was a ghostly spectre that moved through the wood, her steps light and silent. It was only when the perfume of her coat reached the mother's nose that Lótë realized Wil guarded their den. A soft noise beckoned her in. 

"Would you like to meet your brother?" the cloudberry murmured gently, tail beating a muted tempo against the floor of the ulaq.