Autumn Drinkies and Clinkies

In a sunlight-dappled glade at the foot of the mountain, Fever scampered about, her ears perked and her nose twitching with curiosity. The crisp air of autumn filled her lungs as she surveyed the fallen apples scattered across the ground like nature's discarded treasures. Fever's mismatched eyes gleamed with an idea as she sniffed the fruity aroma wafting through the air.

With determined paws, Fever set off on her mission, darting among the trees and bushes to gather the ripest apples she could find. Each pluck and pounce filled her with a sense of purpose as she collected the sweet orbs of autumn bounty. As she collected the apples, sharp little puppy teeth punctured the red and gold skins, filling her mouth with the sweet nectar of the fruit. A nice added bonus to her mission.

Finding a suitable spot close to the mountain path that led upward to the family den, Fever carefully arranged her findings, her small frame brimming with excitement. She eyed the rocks nearby, her mind buzzing with ingenuity as she envisioned a way to extract the succulent juices hidden within the apples. If her teeth had squeezed juice out, surely some of the big stones would do the same thing, right?

With a series of experimental nudges and pushes, Fever managed to position the rocks just right, creating a makeshift press. She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding with anticipation, before gingerly placing the apples beneath the weight of the stones. She tried her best to position them just right so that the weight distribution of the flat stones would be even.

With a determined grunt, Fever pushed and prodded, her efforts rewarded as the apples yielded their precious liquid. Drops of golden nectar trickled into the little dishes she had scavenged, a testament to her persistence and resourcefulness. There wasn't quite enough juice making it into the dishes, however. She would need a lot more apples for this to work properly.

Again and again, Fe made trips to collect apples. She continued pressing them between the stones. Sometimes she used her paws, other times she hopped and bounced upon the stone. Either way, every trip yielded a little more apple juice. When the small stone dishes were halfway full, she stopped. There were other ideas flitting through the girl's mind. Yes, she had juice, but how could she make it better?

Fever's culinary adventure didn't end there. With a mischievous glint in her glowing golden eye, she spotted a cluster of wild strawberries peeking out from beneath a nearby bush. With nimble paws, she plucked the ruby-red gems and added them to her concoction, eager to enhance the flavor of her creation. After rinsing them in the nearby water, she unceremoniously mashed the berries between her dexterous little paws. She would smell delicious for the rest of the way for sure.

As Fever stirred the mixture with a twig, her enthusiasm palpable, she couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. Her apple drink might not have been perfect, with bits of pulp floating amidst the liquid and an uneven blend of flavors, but it was hers—a testament to her determination and creativity. Not only that, she made the drink so that she could share it. Hopefully her mom and dad wouldn't mind the chunks...

With a satisfied sigh, Fever sat back on her haunches, surveying her handiwork with a sense of accomplishment. The sun cast long shadows across the glade as the afternoon waned, painting the world in hues of amber and gold. Behind the girl, a long, obsidian tail swished across the grass. She was clever. She was creative. She was, without a doubt, the smartest, most ingenious member of Elysium. Her drink was a great success, as was everything in the mind of a child.

As she took a tentative sip of her creation, Fever couldn't help but smile. It might not have been the most refined beverage, but it was a taste of autumn distilled into a single, imperfect moment—a reminder that sometimes, the sweetest things in life are found in the simplest of pleasures. And as she savored the tartness of the apples and the burst of flavor from the strawberries, Fever knew that she had succeeded, not just in making a drink, but in seizing the magic of the season and making it her own.

Deciding that the time was right, Fever released a sweet little puppy howl, calling up the mountain for her mother and father. She had made this drink for them, after all. The three little dishes of autumn juice were placed upon a flat stone. The proof of her efforts was littered around the clearing in the form of squashed apples, discarded cores, strawberry mush and apple sauce stuck to her paws, legs, cheeks. Fever had worked hard and if being a little dirty was the price to pay, she would pay it.

WC-822

"Fever Mendacium"