Sleepy Fox Hollow The Orange and the Green

@The Todd can have first dibs on this one, if he so wishes  :)

Nynka frisked and bounced in and around and even under a few of the swirling autumnal array of leaves that went fluttering up into the skies at her helter-skelter approach, disturbed from what they had probably hoped to be their final resting place upon the ground for the coming winter. The little weasel took no notice of the foliage's attempts to lie quiet and undisturbed, and even leapt and snapped playfully at a few of the larger ones as they went skirling up into the air in alarm. She was deliberately aiming not to have her pearly teeth connect with any of them, however: she didn't much like the actual taste of leaf on her tongue. Still, the display was enough to set the scattered few of their brethren still attached to branches high above a-trembling in the light breeze. Perhaps they too had been hoping to spend their final days more peacefully. Beneath the leafy carpet some small patches of green grasses poked their heads up in alarm, shortly before being mercilessly trampled beneath quick little white-and-brown weaselfeet.

Nynka wasn't the only one rustling among the leaf litter today, however. Thick on the ground was the crisscross trails of musk: a couple of the everpresent wolves, naturally, along with an unusually thick concentration of fox odor as well—maybe this was Canine Convention Central here in this leafy hollow, thought Nynka with a roll of the eyes. But more importantly than the predators were the prey that dwelt herein. As Nynka's scampering and mostly aimless play roused up a particularly young and dumb squirrel instead of mere dying leaves, suddenly the meandering path of her feet straightened out as her focus narrowed, laser-like, to rest its sights on the plump and tender little squirrel-ling. The rodent squeaked in alarm and leapt about for a moment just before it rocketed straight up a particularly and inconveniently smooth-barked tree just ahead of Nynka's eagerly snapping jaws. Nynka wrinkled her nose in disgust as she slapped her forepaws against the dusty gray trunk and stared up after the nervously chattering squirrel. Well, of all the rotten luck...! She had been so close! Nynka glanced craftily about, trying to see if perhaps there was some other convenient nearby way to get at the thing, since with a small experimental scraping of one paw she wasn't entirely certain her claws would catch on this slick trunk quite so well as the little squirrel's.