Dragoncrest Cliffs Corona

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The first to catch her attention looked just as Mireille had when she had been born- borrowing cinnamon fur with little flecks here and there of freckles. He toppled over the others in his conquest, only to be carefully scooped toward his aunt’s chest where he would be cradled with warmth.

”Jadou, Jadou, Jadou,” She crooned into his soft, velveteen fur. ”C’est qui que j’adore? Jadou, Jadou,” She sung with a warm smile.