Hushed Willows To my favorite liar, to my favorite scar

All welcome to those allowed within the den!

There was no shortage of family to fuss over Rusty Foxglove in the first days of her life. Never for a moment was she left to her own devices. If it wasn't her mother, it was @Everett or @Blossom, who for now she knew only as caregivers. At eleven days old, Fox was already thoroughly accustomed to being the center of attention.

Her sisters, too, were a constant. @Dahlia and @Petal seemed to inconvenience her more often than anything else, but Foxglove held no particular dislike for them. They were simply there, and always had been. And they were warm enough to nap beside.

Though she didn't quite understand it yet, her sisters were the first thing she saw on the day her eyes opened. They were nothing but looming blurs of color to her unfocused gaze; Foxglove was delighted all the same. So naturally, she started to yell.