Qatrand ducked through the entrance flap of what had become the communal living area since the kidnapping attempt on Onya, her shoulders carrying the weight of another day spent making decisions that affected hundreds of lives. While the Goltbred pavilion complex had been designed for comfort during extended competition stays, another month of 'permanent' residence revealed that the father and young daughter did not like living within canvas walls.
"Tat! Fok sweep!"
Rather, they simply were not built for it. Onya's announcement came with pointing and whispering that was *somehow* louder than her normal speaking voice. The toddler had discovered that the russet creature had curled up near the warm brazier and felt beyond compelled to share this important observation… with everyone in hearing range.
"Use your quiet voice, little river bend."
