Dawnlark Plains victory

He was supposed to be making his way to the caldera, though Bushtit supposed there wasn’t any particular rush, especially knowing what awaited him. He didn’t particularly relish the idea of younger siblings. He couldn’t say why, except that he supposed children didn’t hold much appeal. He supposed he felt a little jealous too, though that made no sense at all.

A howl cut through his thoughts, prompting the yearling to push to all fours and shake out his pale coat. The voice was different from the one the night before. He listened, head cocking slightly when he realized it sounded a little familiar. Bushtit bit his lip, trying to place it, but couldn’t. Since it was close, he supposed he could investigate.

Nipping some snowpack from between his toes, he sent up a quick yip to announce his imminent arrival and began trotting across the frosty plain.