Lost Creek Hollow that's the way everyday goes

half the birds in the territory fled by the time that little ash was released from the den that afternoon. it was probably around this time that his father regretted having anymore children, and the same time his mother managed to get the ringing out of her ears from his yowling earlier that morning.

as terance settled behind them, ash bolted (very wobbly) into the clearing, howling and yipping in an assortment of puppy noises that sounded something similar of nails on a chalkboard but plugged into a giant amp. ouch. with his siblings assumedly in tow, ash yipped and yapped and dropped to his back, beginning to roll around on his back in the dirty ground.