"Be gentle, it's still just a cub."
She shot a glance at Corbin Crowley holding the cub-like Caleb Manning, tossed aside the sweet stalk she'd been eating, and hurried over to scoop him into her arms.
After a careful inspection, she found nothing serious and let out a sigh of relief.
This little guy really is tough—didn't get hurt at all from the fall.
Just ended up filthy all over.
She carried the little thing to the banks of Umbraflow, washed him clean, then used a fresh beast pelt to dry and wrap him up.
Looking at the soft, adorable cub, her heart softened, "Poor little thing, did the fall hurt? Let me rub it for you."
Completely forgetting that this is Caleb Manning.
The little tiger snuggled against her arms, letting out a low whimper from its throat, like it was acting spoiled, or maybe complaining.
Corbin Crowley trailed after them, his silver eyes narrowing, voice unfriendly: "That little thing sure puts on a good show. It was just a fall, what's the big deal?"
