[[Daigan]]

*sits on the floor infront of the fire, a red leather journal in her lap.  She goes to write, though as soon as quill is to paper, the small puppy Barley tries to tug on the end of it with its sharp little teeth, leaving the feather all stragly.  Reaching for a small cloth toy, she throws it to the other room and watches the pup scamper after it.  Shortly after he returns and she gives him a playful warning stare and a waggle of the finger, which seems to make him settle.  Dipping the slobbery quill in the ink, she tries again....