Dragoncrest Cliffs yo wè figi ou

Sobo almost slept right through the whole thing, except first Mireille rammed into his side, then Loko smacked him in the face. Who could possibly sleep through that?!

The round pup rose with an indignant groan, something akin to a seal's laborious turning, and attempted to fix his newly opened eyes on the culprits. They were indistinct, fuzzy shapes and colours. At the same time, his folded ears began to detect minute traces of sound, mostly within his own body and throat; the sound of his own grumbling made him pause for just a moment, as though waiting for a second ring on a telephone to confirm the first had truly happened.

Then he forgot all about it and went back to seeking out his offensive siblings. That he could now see shades of light and dark did not even occur to Sobo. Everything before today may as well have never happened. The boy could not remember a time when it hadn't been this way. Tomorrow, he would not remember that his gaze was hazier the day before. By the time all his senses sharpened, he would not remember ever lacking them. He was not the sort to look back, even now.

Only forward, and there was the fuzzy red-brown of his sister with another but different fuzzy red-brown smashed into it, and that mass of red-brown smelled like both of them. So Sobo came prowling in the manner of a particularly fat walrus toward them, rolling his puppy bulk forward with ineffectual heaves of his forelegs, prepared to crush them both under his considerable weight.