Firefly Glen ^__________________^

When her gaze dropped back to terra firma, she started a little at the sight of an approaching figure. Treepie swept back onto all fours, though she stilled as she studied the young man coming her way. Despite his larger build, he looked to be around her own age, which loosened some of the tension in her spine. His fur resembled a stone, his eyes a glacier.

Her mouth opened to offer him a greeting, though he spoke first. Pie blinked at the strange words, then began smiling despite herself. She hadn’t understood a word of what he’d said, though the language stroked her ears in such an enticing way. The last word—“regazza”—stuck out particularly.

Greetings, she offered, wondering if he would understand. Do you speak the common tongue, by any chance?