"Welcome to the Verdantglenn, dandelion! What brings your precious self to my humble den?" The Tender bleats warmly, beaming with a tired smile as she pushed open the splintered oak door to her warren. The interior of her den is cozy and cramped, shelves crammed with homemade jams, their maroon and dark crimson hues catch the molten light flickering from the hearth. Each shelf of pantry is stocked with a healthy variety of fragrant herbs and wild berries, cooking spices, and sun-ripened crops, all tenderly grown by Jote's paw.

The settling is disrupted by the joyous chaos of her seven leverts; the Tender's children dart around the kitchen, roughhousing and wrestling. One kit is intent to chase his brother, their little paws eagerly thumping against the wooden floor, while the eldest is attempting to climb the shelves, eyes wide with determination and mischief. Jote chuckles softly, her heart calmed by their exuberance, even as she calls out warnings to be careful around her beloved glassware, and pottery.