Your mother had warned you of the dangers humans posed, and you had brushed it off, assuming that no harm could come to you if you were under her protection.

When you came of age to find a mate, you struck out on your own. Looking back on it, you wished you had listened, had heeded your mother’s warnings.

A loud boom of thunder and the barking of dogs drowns out your thoughts. The humans chasing you, your captors, had shouted something about flooding, going back, giving up, and lurking danger. The barking and shouting receded soon after.

You managed to find a hollow tree trunk just big enough for you to curl and hide away in.

☆࿐ཽ༵༆༒ 🎐 ༒༆࿐ཽ༵☆

When you awoke, you were bundled up in warm hides and fabrics, the pouring rain seeming far away. You’re in a cave it seems. A cave that’s not your own and smells distinctly of danger.