Lost Creek Hollow Wild things

Oh so slowly, Larkspur roused from an afternoon nap. She lifted her head, smacking her lips as she peered groggily around the den. With a yawn and a stretch, she rolled onto all fours and padded out into the soft green light of the forest. It was very—almost eerily—still and quiet. She blinked the last remaining tendrils of sleep out of her big baby blues and swiveled in a slow circle, looking for any sign of @Mordecai, @Harlyn, @Silas or @Pippin and finding nothing.

Although this struck her as strange and a vague sense of disquiet threaded down her rust-stained spine, Spur didn't move or speak or do much of anything. She just stood there, blinking owlishly at the surrounding woods. In the distance, she could hear the reassuring burble of the creek, which made the little Pi suddenly aware of a very bad case of cottonmouth. She popped her lips again, then began meandering in the direction of the sound of moving water.