Sun Mote Copse my muses, my bruises

orca bounces into jr's line of sight, pulling her up short. she comes to a stop with a soft, almost noiseless whine of greeting. a breathy yip leaving her. -orca!- jr greets in ptero, almost tripping over her paws in joy at seeing her niece again.

some time has been passed, and it is almost strange, for a moment filling jr with nostalgia that quickly ebbs away.

-i know,- a slightly sheepish expression nestles upon jr's face. -how've you been? what's the latest tea?- she asks.