Firefly Glen because you feel like a heartbeat

Within the innards of the forest, a delicate scent teased her receptors - the tantalizing odour of raspberries, sharp and unripened. 

Her crown of hoarfrost lifted and a gaze of spring lit upon the brambles. Nerves lit with excitement, her body took up a quivering shake along its length - prancing cheerfully on her paws as trembled racked her muscles. 

Turning, the sighthound gingerly took hold of the hide draped about her and tugged it, laying it out upon the ground. Awen edged up to the shrubbery, leaning up and nipping a few select clusters of leaves with tedious clips of her teeth. 

The berry leaves rained upon the ground, showering the rain-softened loam with verdant raindrops. The fruity scent of the plants was heightened in the rain, setting her at peace and lending a sense of contentment to her quiet gathering. 

A faint rustling, however, drew her mind elsewhere as it grew louder - the Peasant straightening alertly, ears perked as she peered unsuccessfully into the forest's gloom. Only moments later, the druid's suspenful wondering was answered as the ground squirrel skittered across the clearing in a panicked zigzag. 

Trailing after it by mere seconds came the man, a tattered canvas of cappuccino smeared by shades of ochre and scorched by umber. 

The battered woman found herself stunned still, perched in tension with taut limbs - a single paw lifted up in alarm as ghostly, owlish eyes blinked at him with surprise as lips parted to release a soft , startled little gasp.