The tepid light filtered through the trees as the sun fell quickly from its summit. She felt the soft cotton against her skin; supple and damp from the hunt. She had been at it for hours, the day now becoming twilight. She realized she couldn't stay out after dark. It wouldn't be safe; she wouldn't be safe. A single drop of sweat slid from her hairline, crested and fell to the ground from her eye. She was exhausted.
She stayed out of sight, slumped beside the crossroads in the deep brush as she examined her options. She needed a plan. Her hand fell to her well-worn pocket as her fingers fumbled for its cuffed edge. The paper within felt as damp as her skin. She knew any quick movement would rip it beyond repair and likely end her journey within sight of her goal. She slid forward, her knees coming to rest against the sharp gravel. Although saturated with her own dampness, the map slid easily from her pocket; whole.
She was elated, her brown eyes wide in the dimming light. She unfolded the map upon her lap and carefully spread it across the ground. She struggled to find her place upon its lines as dusk deepened. She froze; the low sound she knew so well was close. Too close for comfort. The guttural purr made her smile. Mother's den, a tiger's lair was within her grasp, and she would reclaim her prize.
Okay, so this wasn't really an excerpt. This is what a writer can do with an episode of Dora the Explorer. And by the way, who lets their little kid do stuff like this without parental supervision anyway?