Dawnlark Plains pocket full of posies

The air was thick, and it smelled funny. Funny enough that, when Timberlake was playing near the southern border, he raised his head to smell several times, little face puzzled. He went back to his bone, but the troubled expression never quite left him, twisting his maw into a shape much unlike his usual cheeky grin.

It was only when the bright waves floated down the rise was he brought to full attention, and when they drew near enough to his face, he cringed at the flash of heat, taking stumbling steps backward. It grew hotter and hotter still, until it was unbearable, and then the little pup was running, running, running faster than he ever had before.

He did not stop until he hit water.