>>46915980>She brushed aside some shrubbery and dead wood to show you a hole in the hillside.“Your den?”
>”Home sweet home.” She answered, crouching down and scampering inside on all fours with practiced ease into the darkness.>You examined the hole in the dirt.>Unable to see much, you took out your phone and turned on the flashlight. >Two sapphire eyes stared back at you, and the light reflected off her toothy grin.>She beckoned you in.>Unsure if you’d fit, you took off your backpack and tossed it in to her.>Slowly, carefully, you wedged yourself in feet first.>The den was surprisingly spacious after you awkwardly crawled past the narrow entrance.>The compact dirt barely rubbed away on your clothes.>”One of a few I’ve used.” Zoroark said.>”Kept all my stuff here.”>You rounded a curve in the entryway to find a roomy area messy with all manner of trinkets.>Her bed of old, faded blankets had seen extensive use.>“Used to have one of leaves and straw.” She reminisced. >She grabbed a blanket with a pattern you recognized.“I gave you that one for Christmas a few years ago.” You said, smiling.
>”It was a bitter winter too. I needed that.”>She stuffed the crumpled up quilt at the bottom of the backpack.>Zoroark showed you a pile of books near her bed.>”I had to teach myself how to read.” She said.>Many of them were children’s books and had seen extensive use.>”Still not that great.”>You shrugged.“I’ll teach you.”
>That got a smile out of her.“Where’d you get these, anyway?” You asked, grabbing a book with cartoon aipom meant to teach kids about numbers.
>Her smile disappeared, replaced with a sheepish expression.>”You’d be surprised what you can find if you know where to look.”>You didn’t probe any further.>Though it did shine a new light on all the gifts she’s gotten you over the years.>Zoroark continued putting things in the backpack, sifting through piles of knick-knacks to find what was valuable or sentimental and what could remain. 