Wapun Meadow i heard a call in my sleep again

@Praimfaya

The sea of grass continued, but Renard was growing fonder of it. Their nose and ears were already better than their eyes; they kept their muzzle down as the meadow turned bright with wildflowers in every color, yellows and oranges and reds and pinks. Didn't blend at all with their fur, but it was tall enough and nice to walk in the sun. A change of pace from shadowy forests and northern ice, even with the grass continually tickling their nose. They'd given up on trying to muffle all the sneezing.

Their mind wandered only because there was nothing else for it to do. Still on them, not concentrating properly -- their old teacher would have hated that, Renard would have gotten one hell of a talking to after they'd been knocked flat on their back, never let your guard down and all that. But the meadow was filled with birdsong and smelled only of flowers and the trails of every animal out enjoying the weather, even though the memory had them pausing, looking furtively from side to side.

Nothing but grass, of course. The distant call of something that sounded like a pronghorn. Renard laughed a little -- of course he wasn't around, it was silly but old habits just didn't shake that easy -- and kept going. No point in not enjoying it as well.