Whitebark Stream fazbear pizza

One ear pulled upward with new attention and then the second followed suit a moment after, the intuition of a shift in the terrain drawing his mind back to this dreary reality. The smell wasn’t in his favor and Bee savored a brief frame of seconds to fantasize. Imagining a sickly limping doe colliding right into his path. Still groggy, as he’d been halfway to slumber, his bright eyes focused on the distant silhouette, and for a moment he was startled into thinking maybe he’d pull his dreams into this waking world.

But he was wrong. Bee scrutinized the waif in silence, as he lifted his head slightly from it’s perch on his toes. It was humbling actually and slightly curbed his appetite to see the lean dark figure approach. While he remained apprehensive, he refused to budge from his nestled nook, figuring at the very least his back was not exposed to the stranger.

“What’s eating you?” He drawled suddenly, breaking the chatter of the morning birdsong with the gravel of his voice, having not spoken up in a few weeks; he heard it his head constantly, and yet it sounded foreign to his own ears.