Overture Downs I told you a lie, désolé, mon amour

Morwenna'd listen to the woman. Her stature was impressive, though her weight brought concern to Morwenna. For such a muscled woman, her tone wasn't. She was thin. It worried her.

Bracken, Morwenna's face turned into a smile on the ground, her eyes glittering with recognition that she'd implant for many more days to come, she hoped. There was an airiness to her presence, a docile comfort that Morwenna could recognize. She always wanted to have more female friends, anyways, and there was no scent of a pack lingering in her scent. I like it. It suits you.

Morwenna’s gaze softened as she took in Bracken’s posture, the self-conscious humor in her words. She let a gentle smile tug at her lips, full of warmth and reassurance.

Oh, no, it’s not that terrible, she murmured, voice warm and comforting. But still, you might as well get the full treatment while you’re here. She let her tone drop to a conspiratorial whisper, as if sharing a secret between friends. Besides, a little mud never hurt anyone. I’ve certainly seen worse!

She reached out, nose brushing gently as if to coax Bracken to rise, the gesture as tender as a mother would with her own. Let me help you with those brambles, at least.