Meadowlark Prairie You guide me with your hands

Chander pranced about here and there, sniffing at flowers and rolling around in pollen. His already-dirty appearance only looked worse now that he was covered in vibrant pollen dust. He looked like some kind of radioactive science experiment.

Something nearby sneezed and Chander fell flat to the ground like in those old “what to do if a nuclear bomb goes off” commercials. When he didn’t immediately explode or something he jumped up and looked around for the source of the sneeze. “Wazzat? Hullo?” The flowers and bushes hid whomever was there—if they were even still around. “Aww, come out and play!” He thumped his tail on the ground in invitation, his blue-and-green eyes sparkling.