Dawnlark Plains thought gasoline was on my clothes

haze had settled on the plains, and the woman lay low in the sun-burned grasses. gaze tracked a lone elk that staggered across the plain, head low and tail flicking weakly as the sun burned still. somewhere, cicadas screamed and sang, a single bird offering a bold call into the sweltering day. her tail shifted behind her as she settled into a more comfortable position, head on her paws as she watched the distant creature pause, head swinging from side to side. 

grasses poked through her pelt, made brittle. they'd settled into the dog days of summer, the time in which heat reigned lazily. salmon tongue flicked out to smooth the fur along her muzzle, the woman thoroughly intent on remaining still and motionless as the day wore on.

in the distance, clouds gathered.

Perhaps unknown to her--but unlikely, since somehow the child made as much noise as a bull elephant, crashing over the hills--Timberlake was not far behind his cousin, wobbling a little precariously on legs he was still getting used to. He came over a small rise, amber eyes fixed on the young woman. A smile cracked his muzzle; his tongue lolled from his mouth, panting away the heat.

Because it--was--hot! Even with his downy fuzz, yet to grow into the fluffy pelt that would plague him through every summer from here on out, Timberlake was a little miserable. Maybe Dawn had the right idea, staying still like she was. The problem was that he couldn't stay still. It'd be like pushing a ball down a hill then asking it to stop rolling. It was just physics. Balls didn't stop, and neither did children.

With infectious energy, he bounded toward Dawn's silvery shape, intending to pounce on her tail. He'd chew on it a bit, then get bored, most likely. He hadn't spent too much time with Dawn--his constant companions were his siblings and Mommy and Daddy--but he wanted to get to know her better. She reminded him a lot of Daddy, especially.

"Hiiiii!" Timberlake cried out, sailing through the air with dead aim at the tip of Dawn's tail. He would land directly on it, if she didn't move--and if she was smart at all, she would do so, immediately.

the boy crashing through the grasses is not stealthy in his approach, and even though the heat has beaten her into pained motionlessness, she rises in the slightest and offers the boy a smile. "hey, Timb." Timberlake is too long, she's decided, and she'll come up with a shorter moniker through trail and error. should the heat have abated, she would have tempted the boy into a game, but as it is, she merely still until it's too late and he's fastened his teeth into her tailtip. she exhales quickly, wincing a fraction, and twists around quickly to attempt to knock the pups forepaws out gently, slightly-pained grin painting her muzzle none the less.

She didn't move! He thought at first he could surprise her, but she shot him a smile in the split-second before he pounced. Yet she didn't move. He took no pleasure in startling someone who was onto his little game, and so he only gave her tail a few quick chews before rolling away, dodging her counterblows. He did a little somersault into the brush, and emerged shortly after, shaking dirt from his pelt.

"What'cha doin'?" he inquired cheerfully, sauntering up and gently butting his head against the underside of her chin. She smelled good, like the wild, the land beyond the den. Timberlake wanted to experience the adventures she clearly had; could she take him along, too?