Swiftcurrent Creek i'm in your back pocket, take me out when you get curious

forward dated to the 30th-ish

with each new day came a stride bigger than the last. i mean, not literally. despite daily practice Tiercel still couldn’t command her stocky limbs for anything; she negotiated the terrain of their den in the manner of a ginned up baboon, and was very intimately acquainted with the laws of physics.  

recently, her favorite thing to do was orchestrate an entire symphony of growls and yips and yowls. only as of late could she be an audience to her own concerts (and boy did it ever need a proper choirmaster), but she'd been appreciating the vibrations alone against her throat for some time now. she was particularly keen on the juddering sensation whenever she growled and took every opportunity to tune her instrument, trying to prolong the resonance of its effect. even while nursing, she would compose small rumbles that made each gulp burble and percolate through her jowls and she would then smack her mouth like a connoisseur savoring a lush wine.  

the alien was developing all her senses rather rapidly. by day twenty, she was able to recognize her mother’s milk-heavy scent and if she got so much as a whiff, would begin squalling tirelessly until there was a teat placed directly in her mouth. 

a week later, her ears, newly unfurled, revealed the enrichment of a soundtrack to her world. as she lolled under the heat of the sun their wilted ends swiveled like dowsing rods towards every murmur coming from the forest--gossipy birds, the babbling creek, the skirr of squirrels as they chased eachother from tree to tree. it was all faint, still, but she had little else to do except eavesdrop on the goings-on of Swiftcurrent Creek.