Hearing the ghost of an echo, the silent "no" seep into her mind, Fern flattens to the soft loan beneath the ferns.  Lichen and moss her bed as she strains to hear more.  Well concealed she hesitates, ears straining for sound, anything above the whisper of the wind through the foliage.  Hearing no screams or footsteps pounding on soil, she waits.  Breath fighting to pass flaring nostrils, her eyes cast about through the greenery looking for the source of that echo.