Tormented Tarns Living like life's going out of style

A whimper rose to a wail; Dhalia pinned the girl's location and struck out for the thicket she nestled in. The grass shook around the roots of an ancient tree. Blonde fur stumbled out.

Foxglove, her name caught on a sharp exhale. If the child's cries hadn't warned her something was wrong, her mannerisms did.

Dhalia swept towards her through the brush until she could pull the child near. Come, tell me what's hurting, all the while, her bright eyes scoured the ground for anything sharp that might have pricked her, or a root she may have tripped on. She reached out a paw to guide the girl away from the tree onto open ground.