After returning from a night patrol with Pumpkin Eyes (@Hawthorne) the agouti boy was left feeling restless. The main den and the comfort of his friend’s warm pelt beckoned him, but his mind refused. Most of the time he would returned exhausted, slumping down beside his friend or against the far corner of the cave. But today was different. He had accompanied the girl to the den and waited for her to fall asleep before slipping out into the darkness, savouring the last few moments of the subdued colours before the sun rose.

He had managed to shimmy his way over the northern river, hopping over rocks to get to the eastern side before dipping south, to where the forest mingled with the scarlet ferns of the southern forest. His awkwardly large paws slipped a few times, almost causing the agouti boy to plunge into the slow moving river, but he’d managed to catch himself before falling. One day he would manage to get the hang of walking without tipping over himself.

As he stepped toward the crimson foliage the sun had begun to spoke through the snow dusted branches, illuminating the leaves. Red wasn’t one of his favourite colours, as he associated it with anger, but it wasn’t a bad colour. Not nearly as bad as orange. He shuddered at the thought, his tail twitching in frustration. His left forepaw kicked at the snow absently, his mismatched gaze sweeping over the sea of merlot. It was a nice change from all the emerald surrounding the turquoise shallows.