Hunting

Bolide pushed through the underbrush, the soft ground squelching beneath each step. She felt a small cold prick on her nose and scrunched her face a little. The snow was beginning to melt and there was now no time of day she could escape the constant feeling of damp. She had grown fast, too fast almost, and was still growing. The acro now towered over the height she had been only a month ago. On her back Bergamot let out a irritated chirp as she too was hit with a couple drops from the canopy...