Heron Lake Plateau j'ai toujours vécu ici pourtan

Slowly, her attention detracted from the watery landscape and to her own being. In a matter of minutes she had muddied herself, the shock of white along her underside speckled and streaked with signs of sticky mud. Even now, her feet were planted firmly in that soft loam, and she pulled at them tentatively to free herself and deliberate moving along. Again the thought crossed her mind—why would anyone ever want to leave here? They had everything they needed, could perhaps have everything they ever wanted. Even history was not lost on her however, and she knew that they had not always been here. Maybe her, but the others, no.

Speaking of which, her mother was one of those beings; the lilt of her voice pulled Phoebe out of her thoughts and her features into a smile as she turned. ”Hi Mama,” she said softly, ”are you finding any plants out today?” Maybe it was still too early, still too cold at night and the sun not quite on display enough to encourage growth; maybe she simply wasn't looking in the right places just yet either. Still, she'd most certainly try and succeed where she could, and the wave of her damp tail seemed to carry that energy.