Tala's world was small, comprised only of the den she'd been born in and the occasional root poking through the walls. Without her mother curled up inside with her it felt so open, empty. Though she'd grown accustomed to the draft that seeped in from the entrance in her mother's absence and the silence that inevitably followed, it still made her miserable. She wanted out. She wanted to see whatever it was that the milk-bringer saw when she left, and do whatever it was that she did. She didn't want to be left behind anymore.

Small, silvery paws pulled her up towards the entrance until she spilled out into the sunlight on the other side. It was warm, much warmer than the den had been, and much brighter than she could have ever imagined.