Jade Fern Grove the phonograph that plays your favorite albums back

He did not care for his new home. He had found it flourishing with plants but even this did not comfort him, for his mind was overwhelmed with thoughts that he had a hard time managing. When he was younger, he would look at plants, collect them, dry them, store them, and even use them, all without having a single thought as to why. He had simply acted. Now, his mind was filled with their names, their uses, and the symptoms of maladies he had never heard of. He could not so much as glimpse a leaf without being accosted by a voice inside his skull that was none to pleasant to listen to. It was gruff and loud.

He trudged through the ferns of their territory, his white ears slicked against his equally white crown, as if he could block what he heard in his head. Sprawling, broad leaves concealed a dip in the ground, left when some tree had been uprooted in a wind storm, and he tumbled arse over muzzle as he stepped into it. He tumbled hard, and dirt and grass stained his white coat. He snarled at the ground as he pushed himself back onto his feet. "Just great," he grumbled, shaking himself off.

He heard his brother then, and with his face scrunched into its usual scowl he headed toward him. Swift found Pasha pouncing after... something. He walked nearer, hoping to see what had his brother so interested, but as he drew close to the log, the toad sprang toward him, causing him to backpedal quickly until he tripped and fell on his rump with an alarmed gasp. "I HATE THOSE THINGS!" He snarled, feeling like a fool for tripping — again.