Firefly Glen ^________________________^

Her ears swept backward at the noise, which sounded extra loud and humiliating in such close quarters with a new acquaintance. Treepie flashed her—Sobeille, such an avant-garde name—a sheepish smile. She looked a little flustered too, perhaps embarrassed by her faux pas. Pie bit her lip, feeling a little bad for her comment now.

But Sobeille motioned for her to come along as she began to walk. The simple act of falling into step smoothed some of the awkward tension from the exchange, as did Sobeille’s question. Pie blew out a breath, grinning now at the memory of rousting a wolverine from the crevices of Moonspear.

A wolverine, she replied. It was ferocious. I was mostly there as a distraction. He was the one who actually tangled with it. He took a lot of hits, but he beat it in the end, Pie recollected, picturing his bloodied chest quite vividly in her memories before brushing it aside and quipping, I’m actually kind of bummed Ajei didn’t wear its hide as her wedding dress.