Sun Mote Copse Leaving blood on the paintwork, though primroses grow in circles round his feet.

Did someone say “nutters”? Taking his cue, Skipjack came barreling out of The Taigh. He promptly tripped over his own paws, rolled ass over teakettle a couple of times, and ended up in an ungainly sploot. He blinked, then pushed back onto all fours with a grunt.

There were two shapes nearby, one dark and the other pale. He knew the latter was his beloved mother, though Skipjack made a beeline toward the former. He crashed into it with a gleeful shout, feeling the familiar sensation of arms wrapping around him. He let himself be scooped, his little paws immediately reaching out to touch every inch of that swarthy face.