Changing of Seasons

Abby woke to a voice she didn’t recognise calling for her, and she rose groggily from her light sleep and limped toward the call. Even though she was aware of Allar they had never really spoken, so Abby didn’t have a voice to put with the face or name. Still, talking or whatever he intended was better than sleeping and interacting with a potential stranger hadn’t put her off before.

She left the den, a possum following close behind. She had befriended the marsupial by chance, the creature had incidentally chosen her den to take shelter in during a particularly chilly night. She gave it an apple, and it had promptly decided to adopt her as her own, so long as Abby provided food. She had decided against informing the creature that she couldn’t even provide food for herself without assistance.

“Hello?” She called once out of the den, waiting for an explanation or an order.