Lost Creek Hollow Wild things

Somewhere not far in a shadowed swatch of creekside forest, he lies in wait.

His pale underbelly is pressed against the cool earth of the ground, while from above, he unknowingly takes full advantage of his darker counter-shading. He stalks low, slow, and as quietly as he can (his system is not yet perfect, after all).

Today, he's most motivated to test his capabilities in sneaking. It's all spurred into motion by his growing urge for the hunt himself -- although he may not exactly interpret these instinctual cues as such, he just knows it sounds like a good thing to do for today. His appetite, and body that just seems to sprawl out in a new direction by the day, all further encourage him to just do it. He's eventually going to need to step up from pouncing on dirt clods all day, anyway.

He creeps beneath some brush all bright green with new growth and settles at its edge, just where the shadow spread beneath it. Silas then hunkers down low. A series of noises (conversation, but he can't make it out) from nearby makes him pause and since he cannot yet identify it, he listens for more hints. The sound of the nearby creek muffle the sounds to his swiveling ears but he tries anyway before stalking closer.