He awoke with the aroma of the woods still steeping his senses.

His first instinct was that of all young animals: he seized a few of the young, tender green leaves of the yerba buena vine that crept over his mossy pillow and ate them, being rewarded by a half berry-like flavor that seemed to soothe the cravings of his appetite.

The languor of sleep being still upon him, he lazily watched the quivering of a sunbeam that was caught in the canopying boughs above.

Then he dozed again.

Hovering between sleeping and waking, he became conscious of a slight movement among the dead leaves on the bank beside the hollow in which he lay.