overprepared > underprepared

Nose stuck in the dirt, snuffling around, still searching for those dastardly rabbits. Or the mice. Or the squirrels. There were plenty of small critters lingering around their gardens and den. Waiting, watching, patient for the next opportune moment to steal some food. Of course, a carrot or two missing wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that Ursa could tell her mother was... nervous about something. All of the adults seemed on edge. Every day, as she herself watched them go back and forth, something was different. The pup could not exactly place what it was or perhaps she didn't have the words for it yet, but she blamed the critters trying to steal the food.

Halfway between chasing after her next victim, Ursa freezes. The soft lilt of her mother's words carrying on the gentle autumn breeze makes her ears turn and then her chubby puppy form. Excitement shoots through her as her tail lifts and begins to wave happily. Words don't leave her lips until she makes it to the doorway. A wide smile on her lips as she rushes over to the table where her mother, Wylan, and Zion already are. "I'd like to join!" Her own tiny voice tries to speak up, but it doesn't do much. Taking a seat, she looks over the supplies with her deep lavender eyes and waits patiently.