Dragoncrest Cliffs a boy named stargazer

There was only one word that could properly describe her movements: frantic. Meerkat hunched, tail a rigid poker over her back as she clawed at the earth. She pulled great clods of mud out of a growing hole, grunting with the exertion. By the time she slowed down and stopped, her pelt was a mess; her muscles were trembling; and she could barely catch her breath.

She pushed backward out of the ditch she’d dug in the soft clay deep in The Saltmarsh. Meerkat stood there and made a tsk sound at her handiwork, then sighed and retreated to sit with her back against a nearby tree. She looked down at herself, slathered in wet dirt, and let out another sigh as she slumped against the rough roots.

She’d made an executive decision: she did not want to use their former den in Greatpine Wildwood. Meerkat was still on the market and now doubtful the marsh was a viable place to excavate. The process of finding a new whelping den was further complicated by her emotions, which had officially boarded a roller coaster again shortly after Fish’s decision to travel with Quennell.

Meerkat let her feelings get the better of her and wallowed there the rest of the day. It was well after nightfall by the time she finally made herself sit up and stretch. Her eyes slanted toward the night sky, amber gaze clinging on the thick sliver of moon hovering over the sea. She should probably head that direction and get cleaned up.

@Stingray