Sun Mote Copse deep throat

The little golden bundle of a girl felt the smallest licks on her crown and she settled. Her brother was much kinder than she, for she initially thought he deserved the clashing of skulls for being so close. There was a sense of guilt, or at least what a puppy can only imagine guilt would be, and she snuggled into him, cooing and whining in apology. 

Her energy spent now, Biskane breathed in the scents of her family and lulled to sleep. She dreamt of blurred images, grays and golds, and a blinding light streaked across the dreamland skies to leave twinkles of stars in its wake.