Mother how art thou

The day was quickly approaching the late evening hours and Take had ventured back into the palace. His heavy paws thumped unceremoniously on the stone floors, his bioluminescent scales flickered red light off of the walls as he went, prepared to head to bed for another early morning the next day. However, as he passed the Great Room, he noticed his mother snuggled up by the fire on one of the large furs. She had a large pile of long, dried prairie grasses in front of her, several of which she was rolling together to form a strong rope, likely for snares. In the winter, when prey was less abundant, it was easier for them to set up snares than go hunting constantly like they could in the summer. The weather was just too inhospitable.

The boy turned and made his way inside, walking up to the Empress and pressing a kiss to her temple with a rumble of greeting. Then, he turned and grabbed a few pieces of paper off of a nearby table and a quill and laid down on the other side of the pile, picking up a few blades of the grass before beginning to roll them together between his paws to form the rope. The paper was so that he could respond to her, knowing she'd like want to ask about his day and the usual things.