Jade Fern Grove Hold my hand tight, we'll make it another night

There was someone in his Grove.

The distant, grieved scream of a name filled his ears, and the lean man lifted his head from the drink he was having, licking his whiskers clean. Eyes focused on the distance, slowly turning his body to face it.

He didn’t know how to approach this. But, he would try.

The man set out, walking with a slow, steady plod, and it was only when he got close, close enough to see the silver curls of fur, that he gave a little woof, both greeting and a warning of his presence as the owner of this place.