Firefly Glen Things fall apart,

With delicate steps Morwenna continued through the brush. She was a curious woman, tredding lightly but inspecting many elements of this wooded area, though her expressions remain jaded— close to her heart. There was nothing out here that could surprise her—

oh?

Any mother could recognize the feeble whimper of young. It brought over a wave of nostalgia, sending the matriarch into a fevered frenzy. Where had it come from? There— no, there.

Just beyond a fallen log, she'd seen the whelping darling. Morwenna froze, ears falling against her skull— the babe looked so much like her own flesh and blood. She thought she'd seen a ghost.

Hello there, she chirped, taking only a single step closer. She did not want to frighten the poor thing. Are you alone out here, sweetling?