Otter Creek On the colorful flowers grown upon the dust and moss

Pallas followed behind him, ruled mostly by her desire to eat. She wanted to learn more about this trap, and as they walked her curiosity grew. They moved quietly together in the undergrowth until he piped up, propping her with an inquiry she hadn't considered. A name. Names were unimportant to her (as were manners, apparently) so it hadn't occurred to her to ask. "Pallas. You? What's this trap nonsense?"