Got the dreamer's disease
Well assured that the chicken plan will be carried out to its full extent of approval, Fern has no issue slipping from that topic to the much more hands-on one. Though she does carefully track the way Isla places down the chicken, leaning faintly to better see past the door frame and observe the arrangement of meat. It feels properly close enough for her liking, wishing it would be inside even to keep the sear cat warm and cozy too, but since the focus is on feeding, she decides that will be sufficient. Maybe tomorrow she can bring up the warmth problem. Nodding, as if an approval clearance of her rank is needed for Isla's task to be complete, and not merely as an extra stamp being added alongside the necessary one, Fern can properly rest now.
Ever has already decidedly gone to his basket, and as he lifts the ball out Fern's features grow much without her consent into something wider and eager. Despite this being purely for training purposes, it does seem fun. Bending down to claim the ball he lays out, she glances over at Isla, and then follows the sight of her arm. "Isn't the point of fetch that he brings it back?" she asks with a newfound uncertainty. "Wouldn't throwing it less far be better, then?" Although, her father is a pro, so she assumes he could fetch this out of many manner of distance and struggle. The sear cat though, he'll need underhand toss even, or a slow bowling-style roll, and nothing too difficult to start with.
Practicing what that might look like, Fern stays low to the ground and so gently nudges the ball back towards Ever that it scracely rolls at all before the momentum dies out and it wiggles to a stop. "Fetch!" Fern calls out brightly, as if the word alone is the magic here.
Ever has already decidedly gone to his basket, and as he lifts the ball out Fern's features grow much without her consent into something wider and eager. Despite this being purely for training purposes, it does seem fun. Bending down to claim the ball he lays out, she glances over at Isla, and then follows the sight of her arm. "Isn't the point of fetch that he brings it back?" she asks with a newfound uncertainty. "Wouldn't throwing it less far be better, then?" Although, her father is a pro, so she assumes he could fetch this out of many manner of distance and struggle. The sear cat though, he'll need underhand toss even, or a slow bowling-style roll, and nothing too difficult to start with.
Practicing what that might look like, Fern stays low to the ground and so gently nudges the ball back towards Ever that it scracely rolls at all before the momentum dies out and it wiggles to a stop. "Fetch!" Fern calls out brightly, as if the word alone is the magic here.
Fern
This world is gonna pull through, don't give up
