It was getting colder. Quilo cast his shadowed eyes about for Lagopus and his friends, who had decided that this was a night worth escaping on, that this was safe and not at reckless of them.
Quilo feared they'd be snatched up by a fox at this rate, or a hawk, or buzzard; that they'd be taken away from him, never to be seen again. Suddenly a sound he knew oh so well drifted across chilly winds, it was them.
Quilo heaved a sigh of relief, dashing through crunchy leaves and dry twigs, hopping over boulders and rocks until he found them; three red grouse all gathered around a berry bush, helping themselves to it's late summer berries. Again he sighed, "Lagopus! What on Earth are you doing? Do you know how dangerous forests are at night? Do you know who else lives around here?" he asked, but it was pointless, for Lagopus knew not what he was saying nor what concern meant, even if it did lace both tone and voice. He just glanced at Quilo with his large googly eyes,