Hushed Willows s e p a r a t i o n

s a f e. she felt it when she curled tightly in her hollow beneath the willow, when she wandered the small perimeter she dared to traverse outside her hollow, and even when she ventured outside that to drink at the stream beyond. it was in the air that permeated the place, in the shadow of the steep mountain cliffs that ringed the territory, and in the easy sun that filtered into her hidey-spots. morn found her on the fringes of her self-made ring-of-safety, where two small willows edged a small patch of damp earth and soft, new vegetation. 

she worked diligently, tugging the plants she deemed to be of poor quality and picking out debris from her little patch of soil. so enraptured was she in her task that her tail had begun to drift out of its normal position tucked betwixt her legs; it hung carefully just behind her hocks. at the side of her patch lay a small pile of carefully-gathered roots and small sprouts, and content with its cleanliness, she began scraping the first hole in the earth. permeating the whole ordeal was a sense of wariness, edging into wrongness - perhaps it was wrong to work so secretively and silently, hiding away her work so none could take. she was selfish, and it gave her a touch of boldness to act thus.