Permafrost Hollows Go Home, You're Drunk

Now, there was one thing about Posie that everyone should be aware of. Posie, small and fickle though he may be, is thoroughly terrified of birds. This is understandable, all things considered. But if he sees anything larger than, say, a sparrow - well, he kind of loses his shit (figuratively, and sometimes not so figuratively). When the raven called out in to the darkness of the forest, Primrose heard it loud and clear; the sound made him stand as still as a stone (and well, it made him very aware of his full bladder), and then a change came over the peaceful little boy.

He lurched from the underbrush in full-on panic mode. His head was up, eyes roaming the treetops, while the rest of him practically vibrated with his fear. Thinking that he had spotted the bird's silhouette in the pines, Posie barked and hollered at it, like a hunting dog might bay towards a pheasant. The fool was so wrapped up in his imaginary bird-hunt that he didn't pay any attention to the stranger - even though the stranger called out, closer and louder than the bird.

The raven crowed again, this time from further away and in a different direction. So Posie spun and barked up a storm a second time - only to hesitate, and then stop, when he thought he saw the bird move away through the air. "HAH! SO THERE BIRD. You can't eat me this time!" The boy's voice was filled with glee. The short-lived kind. Because right as the tail-end of his statement erupted from him, he noticed the wolf.

"Oh. I'm sorry, is this.. Is this your forest?"