Hushed Willows Pam, please. . .I have Country Crock.

That night did not bring comfort for Sundance who, plagued by thoughts of an uncertain future, ventured from his resting place to seek solitude. He moved quietly on careful paws through his beloved willows and toward the outer edges of court territory, hopeful of finding distraction.

It came in the form of something most unexpected, and the silverwhite paused in his tracks to peer through the weeping branches a moment longer to confirm that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. A young cub sat alone on the outskirts of Sundance's home, an observation that roused a flurry of concern in his chest. He lifted his muzzle to look around, keen to seek the pup's parents, but he was unable to source even a sniff of anyone else.

He stepped forward with a low whine as powder blue eyes sought the girl's face and offered a soft wag of his feathered tail to communicate that he was friend, not foe. "Hello," came his gentle greeting as he paused some distance away, hopeful that his approach wouldn't spook her, "uh..." Sundance, only a yearling, was inexperienced in how to deal with kids, fumbled awkwardly. He didn't want to leave her out here, but didn't want to seem like some creep either. "My name's Sundance. What's yours?"