Stone Circle Little one

Astrid, as well as her brothers, grew; gone were the days of stout legs that stumble and tumble, and in came the beginnings of awkward adolescence. Even still, Astrid could not seem to lose the puppy weight that clung desperately to her with all its might. Every part of her jutted out and yet remained rotund, as if the heavyset figure of her father and the grace of her mother combined to create God's unchild heathen.
And she was fine with this, in her childish lack of sentience. Insecurity did not exist within her yet.
In fact, she was rather proud of it! Tail always high in a stiff flag, bulbous paws thump-thump-thumping as she strut her stuff about Kvarsheim's land and in hot pursuit of her dear brother who, too, wandered from the rendezvous. Hæ! she shouts, voice deep and frog-like, tongue poking from between her teeth as a devilish smile curves up her cheeks. Where're you goin'?