Silvertip Mountain funkier than funkadelic wearing pampers

@Arielle

val had settled in fine, although he'd taken it easy the first few days. his sojourn across the wild had stolen the last remaining traces of residual cub-fat; he was now a long lined, lean thing. and he was tired all the time.

not from lack of trying to sleep - he found a quiet nook in a tumble of stones and made that his own. he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, and again the dreams came -- although this time he dreamed of a different pair of eyes. they were yellow, he was sure -- but around their edges he thought he saw traces of fading lavender.

he woke confused. it was early morning, and a partridge's raucous call brought him to a half-frozen stream. here val drank away most of his sleeping thirst, contemplating the rippling reflection which stared back at him.