Wapun Meadow love me do

Autumn had gotten up early, slid through the tunnel and out of the den, quiet as she could as to not wake Kesik. It was before sunrise. She'd crept through the meadow, towards the edge, and away from the den. In truth Autumn was still a young love-sick dreamer girl. And so she picked a daisy that had bloomed only in the slightest, an early bird among flowers. She began to pluck the petals, quietly speaking as she went. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. Autumn reached to pluck the next petal, only to realize no petals were left. He loves me. Her tail wagged slow and slight and she dropped the petals and stood just as the sun began to rise. He loves me.