Despite looking so similar, albeit not as similar as their twin brothers, Tolte and Feyre had begun to diverge rather obviously as they grew. While both possessed a keen interest in the world around them Feyre had begun to develop a fear of it where Toltecatl only felt wonder. Their world was a beautiful place and it’s picturesque scenery filled her mind day and night. It had lead the young pup to finding a small, abandoned den not far from the one her family shared and within it she had begun a sort of collection. At first it had been plants, medicinal ones her Aunt Zeltzin had begun to teach her about, and from there it had grown to a collection of bird feathers that fell from the canopy overhead, smooth rocks from the river, and colorful berries and nuts. The last of which she had begun to crush and mix together to form a sort of paint.

Slow the walls of the little hideaway were being covered with her creations, some scenes from Taviora and others from her own imagination. The world was a grand place, and while she had no desire to leave her home one day she would see more of it. She had just left her hideaway and was washing off her berry-stained paws in one of the numerous puddles that seemed to be ever growing in the constant rains that pelted the forest when she heard a familiar yet muffled voice and an even more familiar squeak.

Still partially covered in an array of earthy tones she abandoned her puddle and trotted eagerly toward the sounds, ermerging from around the tree to see her sister and father carrying a delectable looking racoon. She bumped shoulders with Feyre briefly before prancing over to lick at the bottom of her father’s chin eagerly and nipping at the ringed tail that hung down toward her. The fur was beautiful and she hoped she might be able to save it. “A very fat coon indeed! she chirped, stepping back slightly to get her father some room. “He probably never heard you coming in all this rain.” Her voice was obviously proud of her father’s accomplisments.