Bearclaw Valley don't let it shake your steady thread cutting hand

she basked in the gentle glow of morning light, thankful for the brief reprieve the soft sunlight had to offer. tension she was not aware she was holding onto seemed to slowly liquidate, and as she breathed the clear, sunny air, indra was aware of a strange feeling: hope. tentative and as diminutive as a fresh sprouted tendril -- but there all the same.

a rustle behind her announced her morning meditation was about to be interrupted: indra stiffened, her slim ear cast back as she caught the telltale signs of imminent puppy onslaught. she remained still - as if blissfully unaware - and then once nunataq's tiny teeth fell upon her, she whirled around and sent a nudge the puppy's way, attempting to push her back enough to present a playbow.