Qeya River sloth

Amalia's face lit up. OH, stories.

She wiggled a little, and stamped her one paw. My father came from a long line of story tellers, and healers. It's actually why I came here. My Aunt Willow was here, and she was rumored to tell stories and heal. I myself can't tell a good one, not like my father or my grandma. They tell such good stories, and when my father is really into it, he acts it out with his body. But he hasn't done that in some time.

He ears went to her head a little bit, and she grew a little sad. She missed her family. She knew she had done what was best for her, but she still hoped they were well and happy and healthy. And that her father was learning to live again.

She tilted ears forward. I'm afraid I can't. She looked down sheepish.

We just came back from a long journey and I haven't fully explored myself yet. But. She tilted her head back up.

We could explore together if you'd like?