Firefly Glen [PHE] iron blade

Her son drew up to her side, his brow furrowed where the dark fur marking his muzzle came to a point between his eyes. She reached out to bestow a kiss there, though she pined nowadays for the velvety-soft baby fur that her children had since shed. Her son was growing- and as amazing as it was, she found herself desperate to keep him just the same, so he might never change or drift away.

Yes, sit, She urged. I am Simbelmyne, this Kitimat, She said, looking to her son then, hoping that his expression might have lifted to know she had intentions of being friendly.