not a child anymore, Roary, stop treating me like one.” She snatched the brush from my knee and reached out to comb it through my hair. I caught her wrist at the last second, a snarl tearing from my lips. “Do you know what it means to brush a Lion’s mane, pup?” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you think it means, but I think it means I wanna do you a favour and sort out the bramble bush you’re wearing on your head, Roar.” I cracked a smile, guiding her hand down to rest in her lap. “It’s a big deal for Lions.”
