She had woken from her shell many, many hours ago. So many hours, though she could not yet tell time by the ebb and flow of the caves as elder gembound could. She could still feel its infinite passage and over the last week or so since she'd emerged the mist had shrouded her from prying eyes or guidance. She had learned about her seemingly suffocatingly small world by trial and error, words coming to mind without need to be spoken, but there as she explored her new world.

She had decided to name herself Poppy, after the tiny red flowers that came to mind in her dreams. Riverborn, for she'd emerged into a stream of sorts that, even now, seemed more like a river to the toddler than the babbling brook it truly was. She'd wandered away from that spot, with the tiny red flowers and the warbling waters, in hopes of finding something to calm the ache in her stomach.

Her world was dark but her eyes didn't bother to strain to see. Her nose and ears did all the seeing she needed to be doing and her claws had dug away the roots and tangles that revealed tasty grubs and bugs for her to eat.

She'd gotten very good at digging for grubs. In fact, this was just what the toddler was doing now. As Poppy rooted around in the dirt, she gradually made her way closer to the hidden resting spot of the white doe.

Of course, nose-deep in swamp mud, the scruffy looking bearcat took no real notice of any changes in her scenery. In the end, she stopped to dig at a smelly patch of earth before she could unearth the doe's resting place. After some scuffle and snorting about, she brought her muddied face up looking quite disappointed and very much lacking any prizes between her parted teeth. It'd gotten away.