Bearclaw Valley they don’t know where they’ll go

tw: vomit

There is laughter. First subtle but growing ever so loudly by the minute. It disrupts his dreams, tears his eyes open and forces him to face reality once more.

Nothing has changed since the last time he was awake. He was still enclosed in the den, helpless and weak.

Even now when he's awake, the laughter was still heard. After a few moments the boy came to realize it was not someone's chortle, rather a strange bird's call. One that was much closer than usual.

Curious to find the source, the whelp twisted his body so that he could face the entrance. Much to his surprise and joy, the sun's rays did not filter into the den, only the night's crisp breeze.

The outside world was not completely void of light. Two orange orbs hovered just above the floor. The boy blinked, completely dumbfounded by this. Was he still dreaming? He had to get a better look.

Once again the boy attempts to lift himself off the ground. It's a struggle, but he managed to get farther than last time, even if that was just crawling forward. 

Those orbs were not a figment of his imagination, nor were they some supernatural entity. They were attached to this small bird that confidently stared him down as he approached.

Its presence mystifies him. Never before had he witnessed a bird with such courage. Usually such a small creature would fly away as soon as a predator would make eye contact, but this one let him get so close that he could reach out and touch it with his nose.

He wants to say something, but the words are lost in his throat. mmm.. mm i- i- the struggle to speak combined with the energy needed to keep his head up drained him. Some sickly feeling bubbled in his belly and rose into his throat. He soon began to retch, causing him to fall to the floor.

The bird was startled by this and promptly flew to a tree. Still, it stayed nearby, watching the boy puke what little he had in his system.