Whitefish River every little thing you do

She nodded, stepping back a moment to inspect her work. Not the best, but, at least he didn't look like he'd forgotten how to keep dirt out of his fur. 

Meyl wondered for a moment why she was even concerned with it. Perhaps it was the looming feeling of looking after those who did not know how, and her mind wanted to practice. Whatever the reason, she licked the top of his head and sat by the entrance. 

Rest. The air does not smell or sound of danger. 

I'll hunt fer him, too. Nice big rabbit, me think. All fer him. I won't eat a bite, I'll go get me own.