Heron Lake Plateau anime les feuilles dans leur danse alanguie

She had been good today. No wild escapes, nothing particularly out of the ordinary. The morning had shifted into a bright day, and now it waned towards a hazy evening. Phoebe had stretched herself out along the mouth of the den, soaking up the last few rays of sunlight that slipped and shimmered between leaves, a lazy display that was everything but for her. Her ears turned this way and that, listening in on everything from the soft (and sometimes not so soft) voices in the den to the sawing call of cicadas thick from the foliage.

Occasionally she heard the shuffle of footfalls as they moved nearby, but no visitors had come too close. If they had ever had a need of either parent, there would be a summons, and then the motley crew of puppies were either left with the parent not to go, or shuffled off on select chew toys. Er, wait, babysitters. That's right, the babysitters. But she hadn't seen them either, which may have been a good thing since there was little question they all needed a break at some point.

A grasshopper flitted close by as nothing more than a blur, and it caught her attention as it landed in the soft soil forever strewn about. That had her attention now—her tongue snaked out to lick her snout as she wondered after it. What did it taste like? Could she eat it? Well, she knew she could eat it, because she was pretty sure Kite may have helped herself to some insect delicacies. Vasa too, for that matter. Suddenly, Phoebe came to a decision.

Crawling forward on her belly, she inched towards the grasshopper with all the precision of a tank.