Sun Mote Copse all mimsy were the borogoves

Weejay giggled as the clover tickled Sugar Glider's nose, prompting a quiet sneeze. "Shh!" Weejay shushed, a smile fringing her lips. It was okay now that she knew Sugar Glider wasn't interested in trampling her flowers. While Sug seemed enraptured with their surroundings, Weejay was browsing the thin stalks and squinting at them with what little light the moon afforded. There was goldenrod and clover and meadowgrass -- she frowned as she saw the indentation of rabbit teeth along the broad leaflets of clover. She was about to say something about how much she disliked that when a noise distinctly unfamiliar burst from the nighttime quiet.

Weejay could not help but flinch instinctively, glancing towards her cousin with a confused glance. "Wazzat?" She hisspered (thanks @Yami for that golden nugget) at Sugar in fear, feeling suddenly very out in the open and vulnerable.