"Yes..." It was a quiet mumble on a breath quite visible in the more than chilly air, followed by the softest of scrapings as two pale paws dug at the frosty earth "Yes that's good. Somewhere... Here!" The storyteller then stood upright on her hind legs, examining in the already dim light what appeared to be a tiny bone. Yucca assumed it was that of an ill-fated field mouse. She had expected it to be there, or had at least hoped. She had found three other similarly small bones half buried in the area. The evidence of her excavation was all around her in the upturned earth. The other bones sat neatly hidden in a small patch of dying grass. This last bone she placed with the others, and then the ever-thorough rabbit began to replace the upturned dirt until it almost looked as if she'd never been there at all.
Yucca returned to her prize, sat with a bit of a thump quite strangely right on her bottom, and began to inspect each bone carefully and with much pride. Upon finding her in such a way, one might assume the young storyteller had some sort of strange fascination with the obscure, but this was quite surely not the case.
Seeming very pleased with her find, the rabbit hopped back up onto her hind legs, took the bones in her mouth so that she could move swiftly, and began to slowly, quietly on all fours make her way through the fields. The cold, winter season brought with it many dangers, not least of which being the lack of cover as the grass wilted and became rough. The frosty earth was less soft and silent to tread across, and Yucca paused a good many times to gaze around her, her long ears flicking this way and that, listening for the sounds of elil. She made her way for a long time through the fields, slowed down considerably by her need to be careful.
When finally she reached the cover of a few trees, the storyteller stopped, stood high on her hind legs, and for the longest time looked all around her. This time, however, she was not looking for elil, but instead other members of the warren. When she seemed satisfied that no one was approaching, Yucca hustled towards a rather gnarly looking tree. At the base there was a slight gap between the split trunk that emerged from the ground. Here there was a layer of dead leaves, which she carefully removed bit by bit so as not to make too much noise, and also to keep them from breaking. Beneath the leaves there was soil. It was loosely placed, and took little effort to dig up. And when she did...
Lo an behold, a treasure trove! At least, to Yucca it was. In the hole of sorts, under the shelter of the tree, was a hrair of assorted collections. There were more bones vary much like the ones she had found today. There were pretty stones, and a number of items that looked like they had been dropped by humans: buttons, bits of foil wrappers and even a thimble. In reality, it was junk. But to Yucca, it was something else entirely. They were props. Yucca positively glowed as she picked up the thimble lovingly in her paws, looking quite silly with the bones still in her mouth.
So really, there was in fact a logical explanation for her little excavation and strange interest in mouse bones. Anyone could tell a story. But how many could provide 'treasure' that they had found, or other proof of their 'adventures'? Already the storyteller was filling to the brim with ideas of what kinds of 'adventures' she could tell stories about, dramatically pulling out her props as proof that they really happened. It was all in good fun, even if it was a bit overdramatic.
Yucca returned to her prize, sat with a bit of a thump quite strangely right on her bottom, and began to inspect each bone carefully and with much pride. Upon finding her in such a way, one might assume the young storyteller had some sort of strange fascination with the obscure, but this was quite surely not the case.
Seeming very pleased with her find, the rabbit hopped back up onto her hind legs, took the bones in her mouth so that she could move swiftly, and began to slowly, quietly on all fours make her way through the fields. The cold, winter season brought with it many dangers, not least of which being the lack of cover as the grass wilted and became rough. The frosty earth was less soft and silent to tread across, and Yucca paused a good many times to gaze around her, her long ears flicking this way and that, listening for the sounds of elil. She made her way for a long time through the fields, slowed down considerably by her need to be careful.
When finally she reached the cover of a few trees, the storyteller stopped, stood high on her hind legs, and for the longest time looked all around her. This time, however, she was not looking for elil, but instead other members of the warren. When she seemed satisfied that no one was approaching, Yucca hustled towards a rather gnarly looking tree. At the base there was a slight gap between the split trunk that emerged from the ground. Here there was a layer of dead leaves, which she carefully removed bit by bit so as not to make too much noise, and also to keep them from breaking. Beneath the leaves there was soil. It was loosely placed, and took little effort to dig up. And when she did...
Lo an behold, a treasure trove! At least, to Yucca it was. In the hole of sorts, under the shelter of the tree, was a hrair of assorted collections. There were more bones vary much like the ones she had found today. There were pretty stones, and a number of items that looked like they had been dropped by humans: buttons, bits of foil wrappers and even a thimble. In reality, it was junk. But to Yucca, it was something else entirely. They were props. Yucca positively glowed as she picked up the thimble lovingly in her paws, looking quite silly with the bones still in her mouth.
So really, there was in fact a logical explanation for her little excavation and strange interest in mouse bones. Anyone could tell a story. But how many could provide 'treasure' that they had found, or other proof of their 'adventures'? Already the storyteller was filling to the brim with ideas of what kinds of 'adventures' she could tell stories about, dramatically pulling out her props as proof that they really happened. It was all in good fun, even if it was a bit overdramatic.
