Shy Deer Steppes tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

"I don't see why you won't," Easy sniffed, waspish. But there was a bright gleam of mischief and affection in her eyes that said she was not truly disappointed.

Truth be told, she was not disappointed to hear about this dead king, either. Any other grandparent was competition, in the black bear's eyes. She tried to look sympathetic. "I hadn't; I am sorry to hear that," she lied, far more interested in the next tidbit. "How is your father, after all this?"

What she meant was, How is he treating you? She tried not to be overbearing about it, but she had made no secret of her suspicion that they did not feed or pamper Madhuri nearly as much as they ought to in that place. They were uppity, in her opinion — although she had spent precious little time in the kingdom.

"Right here? Probably not," she answered, her voice wry. "But perhaps in the meadows a little further north. I am getting to be too old to climb those mountains." But this was not what she wished to discuss. "And what about you? Are you heading back to Mynydd?"