The days were slipping by, getting colder and windier as time went on. Warden was actually enjoying it pretty well, feeling the shift in the seasons. Did this happen every year? Hm. Another question to ask mom, probably. Halo had become really good at answering his ceaseless questions, and it seemed like she knew everything. Like, absolutely everything. Warden would be grateful, later, for this patience.
Warden romps through the woods, kicking a ball that his mother had sewn together from scraps of rawhide. It's a sturdy thing, and has already seen many repairs. Stuffed with even more scraps, it keeps its shape well. Kick and chase, kick and chase. Over and over again, until he... oops. Warden lost control over it, and the sharp breeze carried the ball farther than he'd intended to. Maybe the boy doesn't quite know his own strength yet. The ball continued to roll, right towards a dark shape under one of the big trees. "Heads up!" Warden called, romping after it. He's ruined someone's rest. Oops.
