Wapun Meadow tiptoe

She wondered what Irene made of her claim. Flattery came easily to her, and it was an incredibly becoming trait. She suspected there was more to Irene than what met the eye- a beauty that ran deeper than her appearance. Intelligence and wit, the confidence to know when to be abrasive and when it was best to be endearing. 

Ameline found it amusing to hear Irene claim to have little to offer- only to prove otherwise a moment later. I think you'd have a lot to offuh, for what it'th worth, She replied. You thound like you'd make an ekthellent thcout, if you like to travel. Maybe even an ambathador, or a thpy, if you're interethted in makin' contact with other packth, She said. She shrugged. I won't push you to make any committment-th, jutht- know that I think you got thomethin'. She said, leveling her gaze on the horizon. 

Ameline adored the valley. It was their fortress, their home. But the meadow? A haven that existed just beyond their boundaries; and like any greedy ruler, she coveted things that others saw as being valuable. The meadow was no exception. It ith. She hummed. 

She was quiet for a moment. 

What'th it like, where you've travelled tho far? She asked, taking a rekindled interest in the stately visitor.