Phoenix Maplewood through the curtains of the waterfall.

Pippin was tired –what he had considered as being ‘tired’ before had paled in comparison to the level of fatigue that washed over him now, and he felt the tremor of his wariness in his shaking legs. They had left their home behind – Pippin had followed dutifully, and for once without question, but it was in the night, when his sister’s quiet cries woke him from an already restless sleep, he felt a surge of heartbreak for what had once been familiar.
 
Harlyn’s bark drew his eyes up – the ambling pup had almost fallen asleep mid-walk, it felt, and his eyes caught the flash of darkness descending upon them before Harlyn instinctively coiled about them. Larkspur cried, despite the presence of another adult – and with fright coiling even in his belly, the boy huddled close to her, trying to soothe her in the only way he knew how to at this point – his muzzle wrapping across her shoulders, holding her tight, and his own frightened whimpers of discomfort as dark objects battered him – he would only come to realize later they were bugs, and as they began to stick to his fur, a low, desperate howl began to echo from his muzzle, muffled by the fur of his family.