Naaghai Lowlands a pretty girl with bouffont hair

She laughed at him, though even now, there was something good-natured in her needling. She laid herself flat in the cool stream and let the water run over her, looking up at her young admirer. She was pleased to still have his attention.

"Good," she chirped, her tail flinging water as it wagged. "You can help spread the word."

She had a practiced speech, of course. She was, after all, quite the thespian. But, for one reason or another, she found herself speaking more candidly with the young man.

"We're rounding people up for a summer festival," she told him, digging her claws into the pebbly creekbed. "Midsummer, North of here. There's these hot springs, and this plateau — we'll be right there in the valley. We have our own things to trade, and our own songs and stories and dances, of course, but it'll be more fun if lots of different wolves and packs show up to celebrate.

"We do this every year — though I'm a bit newer than Balarina. I joined up with a few of my daughters summer back, but we've attended a few down in the desert over the years. The cats took some getting used to — but they're nice enough, once you get to know them. These ones, at least."

Journey wouldn't trust a new cat as far as she could throw one, and she wondered if she ought to warn Bushtit to do the same.