Sun Mote Copse Whispering in parlour rumours

The past month had gone by in a blur. Quetzal, Alyx, and Primrose were growing like weeds (of course), and Meerkat was looking more and more like a real girl every day. Time stormed straight ahead, and Phox's life fell into a particularly predictable rhythm. He had zero complaints about that, even if his writer occasionally yawned at procrastinated writing with him because of his happiness.

When he saw Wraen approach, Phox's tail gave a friendly wag, and he invited her over with a friendly nod where he lay on the grass, soaking up the afternoon sun.