Obieth listened to the explanation. She didn't entirely understand it, but she accepted it; Aethril was much older than her (she assumed) and knew much more (mostly proven). Anyway, her belly was full, and now the show was starting.

And Pollen had brought another gourd.

The Valkhound pulled upright, using two-taloned paws to pull the gourd to her chest; then--Aethril's hand still trailing her skull--contentedly began to pull hot dogs from the popcorn. The feeding was no longer rushed. Her eyes flicked up to the screen, taking in the show in silence (bar the quiet munching of fangs on sausage).

She held the scent of food in her nostrils, the pleasant feeling of dim shadows all around her, the awareness of familiar company to either side. Was there any creature happier than Obieth? The world would be hard-pressed to find one. She had everything she wanted, now.