All grown up

Vanta felt her father’s sorrow intertwine with her own, a shared ache for the mother and mate they had lost. His embrace tightened and she could feel the echo of her childhood in his touch. She was larger now, her stature mirroring his, but in his arms, she was allowed to be small, to be the pup who once looked up to him. In her father's gentle hold, the world seemed to right itself once more.

His head rested upon her back, a gesture so familiar and comforting that it brought a tremor of relief to wrack her tense frame. With a slow nod, she collected herself, uncurling from her defensive posture. The mention of Morts' den stirred a faint curiosity within her, a whisper of change that she had yet to grasp. She noted the flicker of pain that crossed her father's face, too, but for now, the warmth of his offer and the promise of reconnection were enough that she could ignore the building unease.

"Okay." Vanta began, her voice somewhat steadier. "I would like that very much." She offered a small, tentative smile. "I do have a lot to tell you, but I want to hear your stories, too." Slowly she wormed her way from his embrace, shaking out her pelt as she was freed - the crystals in her saddle tinkling together like chimes.