Heron Lake Plateau I Hear the Wind Call My Name

Aibehai? mimicked Owen again, and then let out a startled little, Eep! as his father encouragingly prodded Owen's reluctant rump. Owen splayed out his feet and planted them stubbornly in place for a moment, instinctively resisting being shoved around or told what to do. He glanced back at Qui with big, slightly wavery eyes, trying to figure out exactly what this big brute was trying to make him do now. Warruhrawh! scolded the little boy, and then squinted up suspiciously at the sunshine again. His nose was working away of its own volition, trying to make sense of the broad smorgasboard of scents the world was offering up out here, so much more varied and interesting and clear than the limited array back in their warm little birthing den. Owen couldn't help but glance apprehensively back over his shoulder again, toward the dark hole where Momma and sisters awaited, but unfortunately Quixote and his lowered big boxy head were mostly in the way of this. Wraaaah, he complained, not liking the idea that he couldn't just run right back in to Mommy the first moment he felt like it. But despite all this he couldn't help but take one venturesome step, and then another. Before he knew it he was slowly but steadily trailing out across the pebbly grass studding the landscape as he moved further from what was comfortable and familiar, blinking as he grew more used to the bright sunshine.

Owen stopped, and then, still sniffing hard, craned his short neck out as far as it would go, trying to get a good sense of the bizarre protrusion on the gently bobbing stalk of grass he spotted a little ways away. He'd never seen an insect like this before; it didn't smell like a whole lot, but the twitchy way it moved its wingcase and its tiny, almost-invisible mouthparts was interesting... As Owen leaned forward to squint closer at it, however, the grasshopper decided it had had enough, and launched itself skyward in a sudden confused flurry of wings and legs and othersuch suddenly-frightening alien pieces. With a cry Owen flailed backwards away from the thing, to glom up against his father's legs and cling to them as best he could and maybe even bury his face between them for a moment. He did not want that small insectoid monster to be able to attack his face, especially, after all!