Panther Park Singing My Coy Cry

Strangers were being slow. Or rather, her view of slow. She'd taken her sweet time after settling in one spot, stopping to rest on the forest floor. It was far more dense here than she could have expected.

Her back was soon slithering about, belly to the air to stick the new aromas on her pelt. To feel sensations she'd not been given before. Miles of sand offered no such thing. Now grass rolled under her body as dunes once would, and instead of swallowing her, it kept her afloat. Nothing would replace home, but this allowed her a sweet rebound. WIGGLE WIGGLE WIGGLE.

Stopping to lazily rest on her side and look about, she snorted from the unusual amounts of pollen in her nose.

Unknowing to the fact that a 'stranger' had come.