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Summer had settled in early this year. The stones beside the creek held their heat into the evenings, and the first cicadas were beginning to stir. The shade among the new leaves, blessedly, was still tinged with the coolness of spring. It certainly made a fine place to take a break from training. Teka landed first and shook out her Keeper’s robes, the dangling Soothstones clicking against one another. Weet landed beside her, and Teka immediately began rearranging her daughter’s mussed crest. "Ma, I don't need--" "Shhh, it'll be just a moment, and you'll be much more put together." Weet swallowed the rest of her protest and lifted her feathers, letting herself feel like a fledgling again. She had spent the winter and most of the spring refining her Breaking abilities further up the mountains of Remex, with her chosen band of Hunters. The time had gone by in a flash to her, but things moved a little more slowly back home in the Valley. Up there she was becoming a formidable warrior--but here she would always be little bit of a fuzz-browed baby. Teka sang softly as she put Weet’s feathers aright--the same lullabies she’d sung when Weet was still in her egg. Weet relaxed into her mother’s side, listening to her voice. No Sooth in these songs, but powerful nonetheless. No reasonable hen expected her chicks to stay nearby forever--and indeed, might drive them off if they tried--but Weet knew Teka had missed her. Sitting there beside her mother, Weet remembered her first season of life among these trees, and all the lessons Teka had imparted--being careful of predators, being selective of suitors, being always willing to listen--and realized how much she’d missed her mother, too. The summer day was warm, and the cicadas began to call.