The day was growing darker, and he had settled back into his corner for the time being, where he was trying to keep himself entertained with what little he had – mostly making up fantastical stories in his mind, then getting distracted by a random body ache.

“I don't like that Marigold very much,” Cornflower grumbled.

“You don’t like much of anything lately,” Acorn countered. “Except for drugs.”

“Except for drugs,” it repeated smugly.

“That wasn’t meant to be funny! That’s a bad thing!”

“Not my fault you drag me into terrible situations all the time. Like this.”

Acorn fiddled with a pebble he had found at the bottom of the pile, moving it between his pawpads. “I thought you liked it here more than home.”

“I don’t like much of anything lately,” it repeated back to him once more.

He grew quiet. The whole situation was frustrating him. He wanted to go outside.

“Don’t you dare leave,” Cornflower said sharply. “You know what’s out there.”

He put his head down gently on the ground and groaned. Then, in absence of any kind of recreational substance, he tried his best to let his mind wander…