"Here's a history
Of a mystery
This story
Is my song..."
She was improvising, just letting the garbage spew out, striding now with an assertive stiletto-like sway.
"It's about a bug
Inside of a jug
Which was brown
And small and round."
A giggle escaped her now, breaking up the carefully measured rhythm which had been the cause of the hilarity. How silly she sounded. But sometimes, especially when alone, it was OK to be silly, wasn't it? Nursery rhymes were even crazier than this, anyway. The red-wolf throwback shook her head. Sometimes the world made very little sense. Parts of it more than others. For example, how could she act so light-hearted? When she knew the kind of things that were out there, if you were careless enough to run into them. It was true that her gait had a light, nervous step to it... even at her most flamboyant she held herself as if poised to flee. But on days like today, with the sun out making her gleam even more yellow-gold than usual, she couldn't help but feel exuberant and she was starting to feel like she was the most cheerful person around; maybe even the only one. Well, she should make the most of it, then, she thought. Her muzzle lifted and she gave forth to the sunny sky:
"He would stare
At the cloudy air
And..."
She was interrupted then as an unfamiliar scent hit her and she broke off instantly, looking around in a panic for whoever-it-was she'd smelled; maybe a new pack member? What kind of a first impression would that be, singing out like a loon?!