Bearclaw Valley Green, green thunder and the loud, loud rain

HEHEHEHE

Athalia had been asleep beside Amneris when the snuffling woke her.
A stranger outside. Foreign; dark. Not mother. Not man. Not brother. She is entranced.
Athalia creeps closer to the denmouth with a soft grumble of her own, eyes wide and curious. Who are you? Her belly scrapes the soft floor of their makeshift den as she lowers into a submissive crouch, ears splaying in a wideset plane. Unblinking, staring, and then another movement; she points to Amneris with a dip of her muzzle. Sister.