Deepwood Weald Solace

Metis was ambivalent towards their home. She didn’t mind it, but she also missed the Shadewood.

Or rather, she missed what she’d left. A cool rock, a feather, she hadn’t been able to take it with her. And mother wouldn’t tell her why. So here she was. Moping.

She opened an eye at the approach of her father, disinterested gaze almost drooping closed, before she shot her head up.

Maybe dad could help her find a new rock?

The almost four month old tumbled out of the bush she’d been lying under, already a flurry of sound.

Μπαμπάς! Μπαμπάς! Βοηθήστε με να βρω έναν νέο βράχο! Σας παρακαλούμε!

She hadn't taken to English quite as well as she’d taken to Greek, that was for sure.