Moonspear just the way I like it here

That Treepie had always been one to try and help others did not surprise him, but Katmai's heart hurt just a little when Alaric described her as happy. He'd not been a very happy child himself — too much had gone wrong — and he'd imagined Treepie with the same disposition all too easily. But she'd been happy — and now, Katmai was not quite sure she still was.

It was a thought for another day.

The report on Kinusi brought his spirits back to high places. His chest ached in a different way, from the strain of holding all his feelings for her inside it. Of course she had been sassy and smart-mouthed. She still was! And kind and sweet and infinitely charming, and so loud sometimes that she sounded like a choir, and Katmai's tongue felt heavy in his mouth, burdened by all the things he wanted to say but knew that he should not, not yet —

He blinked at Alaric, coming back out of his lovesick thoughts.

"In all the best ways, even now," he agreed, unsure when Alaric had last seen his daughter. His tail wagged, and he told the man, shyly, "She is very dear to me. I've not met anyone like her before."

He doubted he ever would again. Kinusi was special, and in her singularity, a priceless treasure.