Dawnlark Plains I gotta pocketful, pocketful of sunshine

he understood.  it was how he and his brothers had felt towards the oceanside mountain they'd called home, and a dull pang settles in his breast.

he caught the sight of the rabbit, but by then she was already on it.  and then she offered it to him (once again — these women were so forward).

he was not hungry.  but indulgently, he lowered his muzzle to it and ate from its soft underbelly, leaving enough for the woman.

i might come.  not now.  sometime.