Qeya River sloth

Amalia had only begun to piece together her great aunt's life. She hadn't known much of her, except that her great grandfather, didn't like to speak of her. But when he did, it was with hushed voice full of love, and he often called her little tree, which still confused Amalia. He had often stared at her strangely sometimes, with a sad smile on his face, granted he had been quite old. She had asked him one time, and he had told her. She reminded him of his sister, though not quite. Not quite.

Amalia chuckled. They would have gotten along swimmingly with my father. And can I tell you a secret.

She smiled softly and leaned forward. I'm terrible at telling stories, at least not like them. I love to listen to them, but couldn't tell anything on my own. Can repeat something of course.

She smiled and leaned back. A small chuckle in her throat.