Lion Head Mesa she cries 'cause she's nothing like you, is she like you?

it was good they did not speak. she set down the bundle for but a moment. a divine kiss to his crown when he bowed. then let him rise as he must.

she hovered a paw over the bundle. nearly horrified to let anybody but herself handle it. even more horrified to speak but, ah —

it must find a way into him, voice tense, hoarse, strained into a whisper.