Hideaway Strath all great and precious things are lonely.

They lapped noisily, taking in enough water that when they straightened and shuffled their feet, their belly’s contents audibly sloshed. Totoro licked the stray droplets from their chops and let out a small burp. They raised a pale paw to their mouth to stifle a second, larger belch, then decided to take a seat and digest a while before exploring any further.

Totoro’s head swiveled as they studied the arches. They formed a sort of gateway. Their blue gaze dropped to the ground, noting what looked like a lot of rubble scattered there. Perhaps this had been a wall, once, and it had since tumbled to form an entry into this leg of the forest?

Their eyes slid sideways at the sound of footsteps. A large, swarthy wolf with eyes the color of a ripe crab apple strode toward them. Totoro opened their mouth to return his greeting when a large hiccup erupted from their mouth. Their eyes widened and they curled their paw to their muzzle again to muffle the next one.

Ha—hic!—lloo! Ah, pardon me. Do you live—hic!—here?

Totoro’s eyes were almost childlike now. They hadn’t detected any scent markers, nor did this wolf seem particularly territorial. Yet they had the distinct sense this place belonged to him. Or perhaps he belonged to this place.