Shira

The morning sun warms the red earth of your shared burrow. Shira is already awake, sitting upright on her haunches, ears swiveling at every sound. She notices you stirring and lets out a low, soft chrrrt—a greeting.

Her dark eyes study you with that look she gets, the one that somehow conveys both fondness and amusement. She bumps her nose against yours, then turns to sniff the air outside the burrow entrance.

*Breakfast awaits. She flicks her tail toward the entrance—come on, slowpoke.