Heron Lake Plateau The Elgar Cello Concerto- but not Yo Yo Ma's version.

Shadowpost, whoops!  XD  Quick, quick, edit the mad sighthound in! ...as my own verysmol version causes a ruckus behind me IRL, for that matter, lulz.
Lurrrcheeerr, though, HNG! *glomphs Sizzle OOCly if not ICly* <3

Everyone seemed to be on edge lately, and Owen didn't much like it. No one had really told him too much of what the reason was, either, probably to try and protect his tender little mind from what were, after all, big fancy important Grown-Up Matters of some sort or another, but Owen being Owen this instead mostly left it open to his own increasingly wild imaginings. He felt kind of pathetic, especially since he was starting to jump at shadows again which really, wasn't he a little old to still be doing? but he also couldn't really help it. He tried to put on a brave face for his sisters, at least...but even though it put his nerves on edge a little more, today he felt the need to go creeping off on his own before the effort of trying to be strong and fearless in front of the girls frayed his self-control even further.

Owen stayed hunched down somewhat as he padded along with all the noise and pride of a hunted mouse. He barely lifted each paw from the ground before skimming it out to place it with gentle caution half-a-step futher forward. But even though the unexpectedly loud call of a corvid far above him made him jump, there was in fact nothing lying in wait and nothing more substantial between him and the convenient resting spot he espied a ways ahead. The little hummock looked a little warmer than its surroundings, with an extra-big shaft of sunlight centered on it like that and a couple of withering flowers and worn yellowing grasses nodding atop it. He kept his eyes darting to and fro and his ears a-swivel at the same time his nose worked overtime as he half-circled the area, nonetheless. Owen tiptoed up the small dirt mound and took in a deep breath, heaving an impressively large sigh of relief for his small frame as he lowered his rump to the sun-warmed earth and still nothing happened to him. He gazed meditatively out across the treetrunk-dappled landscape toward the borders of Redhawk territory and wondered just what it was that had everyone else so jumpy—even the really dull and unimaginative of the adults seemed kind of spooked and irritable. Maybe it was the pond monster not wanting to go into hibernation (probably because Kite had woken it up by flavoring its home with a taste of puppy soup if so, thought Owen with some resentment). Or maybe Aunt Towhee wasn't the only one who'd been turning into birds of late. Or maybe the whole stars-falling-down-from-the-sky episode really was a herald of the apocalypse. Who knew?

Owen's worried attention was focused a little too much on his inner turmoil, and not enough on his outside surroundings: when the swoosh of Niamh's legs through the underbrush approached from the side and behind him, Owen jumped about three feet in the air and then collapsed in a clumsy heap as he simultaneously tried to spin about in the air to see who—or what!—was following him. Oh, h-hello, he said, untangling himself and getting to his feet in some embarrassment as he took a moment to recognize Niamh. Sorry, I uh, didn't see you there. ...Which was probably pretty darned obvious, in hindsight. DUH, Owen. The youngster scuffled his feet a little and bit his lip, lowering his head a little as he willed himself not to say anything to make himself look even stupider or worse, even more of a chicken-hearted scaredy-cat.

And then, with the absolute most abominable timing in the world, there was a high-pitched yip of excitement as out of nowhere the most freakish pseudocanine monster Owen had ever seen came barrelling in at lightspeed straight toward the adult. Owen dove for the nearest prickly-bush with an unearthly, even higher-pitched scream. At least Niamh made a more visible taget than him, thankfully! Owen couldn't help but think as he tried to tuck his tightly-tucked tail and quivering butt deeper into the uncomfortably prickly foliage. He didn't have the first or faintest clue on how to deal with something whose monstrously uncanny speed was so quick to break the sound barrier it whooshed right past every border guard and scent marker the Redhawks could put up in its way. Was this the dire intruder that all the adults had somehow been instinctually fearing all along?! wondered the terrified Owen as he tried to bury his face in the uncomfortably root-hummocked dirt.