Tormented Tarns Living like life's going out of style

The girl's scent had led away from the Valley of Gold, and Dhalia had followed. None of the children were old enough to be on their own yet - and truthfully, the woman was not surprised to find no other scent line trailing after her. Reverie and Dusty Rose were often consumed with each other, and though she knew they loved their children... well, it wasn't uncommon for young lovers to get so wrapped up in one another that they forgot about their kids from time to time.

Dhalia had taken it upon herself to lend a paw in babysitting, or at least, child watching. While she didn't hover, she paid keen attention to their paths and whereabouts on her daily rounds, giving them space but being available to catch them should they wander off without supervision.

Much like today. 

Foxglove? she called out through the tarns. She'd lost the littlest Medeiros to the twisting of the roots, and her tall ears had caught a single punch of a yelp - but not enough for her to pinpoint where the child hid. It was enough to raise the fur along her spine, and for her to call out again, Foxglove? Where are you?