Totoka River Ballingoola

Masque filed away this information with a slow nod of their head, thinking of the gravid game they had witnessed in this first year of their life. They tried to picture Avicus growing as round as a pregnant squirrel they’d seen just the other day. Their eyes widened.

Although she had fielded them patiently so far, Masque got the sense Avicus’s patience for this conversation was thinning. Perhaps it was just the scent which accompanied her, implying a fiery impatience. It told Masque that their mother had better things to do than stand around chatting about her far-offspring.

That odor also told them their mother would be busy, preoccupied with the tasks of the season, so they offered, I can hunt for you now.