A Beeline isn't Straight

Morwenna paused, one delicate paw in the air as her ears flicked back and forth. A small young voice had called out nearby in a greeting. She lifted her nose up to scent it, the voice sounded uncertain. The mists folded in and out over the undulating terrain. The scents of pack members and maybe someone with milk breath were mixed among the heather.

"Hello!" Morwenna called back in a lilting timbre. Her singsong voice was high and friendly. She took a few more steps over the thick tumble of heather and grasses and that was when the mists revealed the natural toned child!

"Ohhhh! There you are! I couldn't see you in these mists!" She chuckled, my she had been gone too long, the girl was barely tall enough to reach the tops of the weeds! "It's hard to find your way out here. Want to walk to the treehouses with me? My name's Morwenna, what's yours?" She asked playfully. Slowing her pace to match the pup's. It would be easier to weave her way over the moorland at a pace with the little one. Morwenna had been raised in a polyamorous nomadic pack. Children were a constant feature around her as she grew. Mostly by forced babysitting as the parents scouted ahead for new places to set up the band. She could see the bright circle of the sun overhead, covered by the thick cloud along the ground but it was still visible.