Firefly Glen playing your final march

The fireflies were just starting to appear when Towhee woke from a midday nap. She had slept too hard and long, now she felt completely disoriented. She blinked around at her surroundings, her fur totally disheveled, and tried to make sense of the little blinking lights.

What year is it? she asked them.

They made no reply but to continue winking. Smacking her lips—her mouth was inordinately dry—Towhee heaved onto all fours to go in search of water. She would get a drink and splash some on her face. Maybe that would wake her up.

She took about seven steps before abruptly noticing a gray figure coming through the underbrush. Towhee halted and stared rather groggily at the young stranger, waiting for him to notice her.