Lost little lamb

Basilisk grunted, trying to help her fall gently to the ground, but he couldn’t save her from knocking her chin before he took her impact and rolled gently with it, depositing her gently on the floor beside him. He kissed her forehead gently and did a quick feel down her pack with his paws, but he couldn’t feel anything amiss.

Once he was sure she was okay, he moved forward and swiped her newly made creation off the floor. He checked that over as well, and gently straightened a part of it. “When are you going to start being more careful?” He asked his Ignita, as he reached up, leaning lightly on the shelves and hung it where he assumed she was reaching for. Height had some advantages.


"Basilisk Fatalis"