Qeya River a scurry of squirrels

perhaps unbeknownst to the children, their ma loomed right behind them, plodding toward the misty light as a yawn stretches her jaws.
what's'a matter wit' you, meatball? she rumbles, playfully poking her nose into her son's rump and giving a soft, soothing kiss to her daughter's shoulder. the rain isn't that bad. the two of yas could use a bath anyway, you little stinkers.
it's then that she notices the skittering of the squirrels, watching one dart after its buddy between the thick covering of greenery. ohhhh, i see, she prods bryony with a paw, motioning for sparrow with a jerk of her head. be nice to each other for five minutes and i'll show ya what that racket's all about.