The ground had turned soft. The sludgy, cling-to-your-legs kind of soft from winter’s end, only aided by recent beaver activity, flooding previously dry lands. Rain had helped, and the sun had followed, baking the surface enough to crack open dried streambeds and forests alike. Where once the world had been frozen and brittle, now it crumbled beneath claws with satisfying give.
Gwenn was already halfway buried. Dirt flew behind her in wide sprays, her thick forelimbs shovelling throu...
