Bad Humming, Good Apple
playful and crowded
YY felt the thump in his paws before he heard it properly.
Thum. Thum. Thum.
Beyond the meadow, something big was making the ground remember a rhythm. Birds kept landing, listening, and taking off again as if nobody wanted to be the first to admit curiosity.
YY wanted to admit it immediately. He also wanted food. Happily, the meadow edge offered both.
A crow had a strip of dried apple and an attitude. YY had one acorn-bit and no intention of looking too eager.
"Trade," YY said.
The crow inspected the acorn-bit like a banker with feathers. YY hummed along with the distant thump. Badly. The crow gave him the apple, perhaps to stop the humming.
YY ate half and saved half. The rhythm kept coming through the ground, softer now, mixed with evening. On the way home he hummed again because no crow was close enough to file a complaint.
It was still bad. The apple was still good.
YY followed the distant thump to the meadow edge, made a small trade, and turned the crowded rhythm into food and attention.
state
YY followed the ground-thump to the meadow, traded for dried apple, and came home humming badly.