Hushed Willows by the color tv glow

It was meant as a plaything. Before, when they'd lived in the hollow, little Larkspur would have jumped at the chance to play tug-o'-war with her father. But so much had changed since then. The locusts had come; they'd left their home behind; they'd wandered the strange, barren wilderness for weeks; Mordecai had disappeared; and then they'd come here. And though her memories weren't all bad—her father had come back, after all—the pup's will to play had faded somewhat, right along with her energy.

Her smile took on a sad nature now as she gazed up at Mordecai. Despite how lackluster she felt about it all, she struck out a foreleg and shook it at the branch, nodding dimly. "Sure, daddy," she said, slowly standing and preparing to grab onto one end of the branch while he grasped the other.