Phantom Hollow “This place is scary”

She barely remembered her mother, hell she didn’t even know her own name.

As time went by her vision got better and colors got more vibrant. Not that there was much color in this place anyway. The forest was much darker than the home she briefly remembered. The pup wanted to play, she often es wondered where the balls of warmth went but due to age didn’t ponder on it long instead she went a little ways out the den and immediately jumped with a bark.

The dirt and grass were a new texture on her little paws. Which startled her resulting in her falling back.

Occupied as she is in keeping busy here in the hollow, Megara does not notice the new arrival for some time. It is only when a little cream blob exits a small den, a few tail-lengths away from where she is hunting, that the crone approaches, brow furrowed in concern. This was not one of Damien's children. Who is she?

Hello, child, she croons, dropping to her belly to give her a more level view of the girl. Where did you come from? The question is rhetorical, of course; she does not expect the pup to have an answer. The scents upon her downy fur are unfamiliar, save for one—and even that smell is hazy at best, in Megara's mind.

It seems as if this tiny girl had just materialized out of thin air. How was that possible?

The cream little pup was just amazed at the scenery. The feeling under her paws were knew as well as the sights and colors but her curiousity peaked when a dark wolf came to her.

As she spoke the little pup only cocked her head to the side. “Rroo” was the only sound that she managed to say.

Sweet, lost child. It's all right, little girl, Megara whispers, placing her chin on her paws, her ears relaxed but still cupped curiously atop her head. A pale pup, with none of the Melonii look about her at all. No smell to suggest an origin nearby, either. And a troubled frown works its way onto her maw—

There were precious few ways a pup this young ended up away from home. Megara simply hopes that the worst scenario is not true.

She stretches out her muzzle, hoping to touch her nose to the tiny forehead. I will not hurt you, she promises, her voice warm and quiet as a summer evening breeze. Her breath stirs the downy fur. And as she breathes in the sweet baby-scent of the girl, nostalgia and longing all at once assails her. Oh, that she could bear children again!

The thought of her old, barren womb brings sudden tears to her eyes, glimmering pools of indigo.

Her voice was soft and it made the little pups body relax and her tail slowly sway back and forth behind her. Minnow gave a happy yip but only until she noticed the female start tearing up. 

She didn’t know what to do. She knew when her siblings cried, her mother would soothe her. Minnow knew what to do.

The cream ball of fluff waddled closer to the female and with a swift movement licked the others nose with her little tongue.

She draws in a sharp, sobbing breath as the girl licks her nose, taken by pleasant surprise. Her lips pull tight in a smile as she is utterly disarmed by the child; she laughs, softly, eyes closing for a brief moment before opening again. She feels the all too familiar tug of maternal instinct, the drive to tuck this little pup in the curve of her belly and give her shelter. It is powerful—more powerful than she remembers.

Sweet child, Megara whispers, licking the crown of her head. I wish you could speak. I wish you could tell me where you came from. One day, she will have words. For now, there is a chasm of understanding between them. . .and that is okay.

Minnow saw how her lick seemed to make the bigger wolf happy or at least better and her little tail swayed behind her. That’s when she got kicked on her head that she stood still. It had been a bit since she got any attention really. But after she processed it she went back to being happy.