The Sentinels jos sais kerran reissullansa

Watching raptly as the coywolf labhandair turned her head and preened delicately at her feathery, cinnamon-spicd ruff, “Starbuck,” Lotte repeated slowly, the new and already beloved syllables falling reverently from her tongue. “I will sing for you until you tire of my noise and threaten to throw me from the highest sequoia,” she promised grandly, utterly smitten with the coywolf. Indeed, as brilliant blue met glimmering silver, Lotte felt a weakening in her knees and slid bonelessly to her side, rolling onto her back to reach up with large, saucer-like paws in an attempt to frame her agemate’s décolletage. “Where have you come from, kukkatanssija?” she wondered. “From what exotic land does such a beauty spring?” And the single question sparked a river of chatter shared equally between the grayscale hoyden and her richly-colored companion as they shared songs and stories.