Bramblepoint the great hereafter

It was the furthest any of the kids had gotten so far - or so he thought, being the intrepid explorer that he was. He didn't know where he was, only that it didn't smell like home anymore, and there were no more signs of his siblings. This was a fact that made him nervous but also, in a way, excited. That nervous energy was translated through each step that Titmouse took; his path was erratic as it led away from the rendezvous site and over the rocky terrain, until he found a forest that seemed familiar enough for him to let down his guard.

He hadn't noticed if anyone followed him; however, having spent the bulk of the daylight hours playing with (harassing) his siblings and sitter, they were probably all puddled together for a good long snooze. It had been the perfect time to escape!

Except now, with the shadows growing long and thick around him and the trees creaking ominously, the little Titmouse wasn't sure about anything. He was happy to have found a copse of trees to squirrel himself away in, but at the same time, it smelled musky and weird - not good weird - and so the boy couldn't fall asleep quite yet. His imagination was working overtime as the mood of the situation settled in: he was nervous, afraid, and without any support that he was aware of.

So when he heard the rustling of bushes and the familiar sound of claws raking the forest floor, Titmouse bolted upright and peeked over a cluster of twisting roots, trying to spot the creature in the dark.