I Highly Doubt It Matters {Open}

At first, Ricotta thought it was the cold that had awoken her, the crispness of the air that had not yet gained its spring humidity. Come to think of it, she wasn't sure how she managed to fall asleep in the first place; surely the ground of the foliage-littered countryside would pale in comparison to the bed she was used to sleeping in every night. She could only assume that her idea of a relaxing streamside picnic had indeed carried out its full intent.

She moaned and shifted uncomfortably, her back smarting horribly for having fallen asleep on a tree root. She opened her eyes and blinked.

The pair of eyes merely inches from her own blinked too.

She gave a wild shriek and rolled over, accidentally swatting at the half-finished container of deviled eggs by her side.  Affronted, whether by her sudden movement or the eggs, the chicken positioned on top of her stomach gave her a prompt, resolute peck on the bridge of her nose and scuttled off into the distance.

"Ugh, stupid animal," she muttered. At least it wasn't one of her family's chickens; Lord knows what her life would be like if she had to put up with that every day. Wiping a plump finger across her nose to collect the excess blood, she forced herself up to a standing position to inspect the rest of the damage. Her brown, curly hair, was laden with dirt and snow, which sprinkled onto her shoulders as she shook it out. She could feel a sizable bruise welling up on her back. Her long-sleeved shirt, which already had been putting on a considerable amount of strain, had ripped along the side seam from her sudden jolt of movement. Otherwise, though, the effects were minimal. 

Then, of course, there were the eggs. Ricotta staggered over to the egg carton that served as her lunch container for the day and gave a contented sigh when she saw that the lid was still closed. At least she still had the remainder of her lunch.

She opened the lid. A bit of the filling had smeared all over the lid of the carton, but the eggs were still intact, at least. 

Scooping up the container, she just then heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps. Had she really been asleep long enough for people to come looking for her? There didn't seem to be that much difference in the light the sky shed upon her.

Indeed, no. It wasn't anyone she knew approaching. Still, the voice was familiar, although it took her a reason to figure out that it was because she had mimicked her pervious statement almost exactly. Stupid animal...was it possible that the newcomer could be looking for the chicken that had just now scurried off? Guilt began to overtake her for having let it get away; she should've at least tried to make a grab at it or something.

Rather than attempt to pursue it, though, she instead stayed put and waited for the searcher to come to her instead. It would probably be where she'd be most effective, anyway.