Bitterroot Valley footloose and fancy free

Midnight melted into the wee hours, and Ico still couldn't sleep. For ample reasons that needed untangling like so many coat-hangers, the young fellow was highly preoccupied by his recent change in situation. He'd picked up a travelling companion, Fields, who was taking him South to meet some interesting-sounding friends and to toy with a sense of belonging. They needed rest for the journey ahead, but Ico shortly gave up on sleep and quietly wandered alone to the river, where he lapped up a refreshing drink that only made him feel more awake.

So too did the next event —

Ico stepped on something very small and very sharp; perhaps a bramble or a cruel splinter of bone. "Ouchie..." he murmured, curling his forepaw round to stare at his paw pad, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't already screwed up the week's adventure.