Hushed Willows sister of pearl

It was the daytime, so the brightly-lit autumnal sky could only inspire so much wonder in the astronomer. Without the stars or her beloved moon to delight her senses, her attentions quickly dropped from the universe above her to the universe below her.  Olive was a mountaineer, a fact which surprised some, and great heights did not have a tendency to frighten her. There was movement in the underbrush — or, at least from this height, the drooping branches of the willows appears as underbrush — and the woman strained her eyes in order to glimpse at the happenings underneath. It wasn’t until she caught flashes of several quite distinctive coats that Olive, from her bird’s eye view, knew what was happening.

“Oh,” she uttered when she saw Brilliance attempt to scry a scent, perhaps hers, from the mist of the falls, then — “Oh!” and immediately began to pace back and forth, in an agitated feline manner, across the narrow finger of rock. A family reunion was at hand, and the woman had quite the vantage point to be an audience to such a beautiful thing; but Olive had horrible thoughts of being forced to watch as the two parties pass each other by without knowing they were so close to their kin. Olive could barely hear her own whine over the noise of the falls, so she knew she would be no help in this endeavor, but still she attempted to bark “Stay where you are, please!” and cry “Oh, you are so close, oh…” as she wondered if there was any quicker way to descend her perch other than jumping into the rushing waters herself.