Wild Berry Meadow Grazing pelts we all once wore

A good spot. Berries grow, water is close. It is prosperous.

She decides that she will wait here for Barley and the other's. Lifting her head, she let's out a long bark-howl to alert them of her position.

Settling down into a sit, the dog let's out a long yawn. It has been a long day; she deserves a rest, but her mind will not settle. There is too much to think about, too much to suspect.

Ears are perked, listening to surrounding sounds. She feels that she is not alone.

field wide broad big even though snow fell and it was slushy wet white tk was elated happyjoy because from a distance sighhound eyes spotted pelt of-

DAMSEL!

happybark as with full speed greyhound raced for dogfriend not seen in so so so so-

legs tangled and lengths away from quail tk careened and went tumbling rolling landing bellyflop first on cold slush hinds kicking up above head face PAMF into chilling snow!

With the sudden bark of T.K, her head jolted to look in the direction of her friend. She blinks at the sight of the dog falling into the slush momentarily startled, but soon stands to meet them.

She let out a quiet laugh, trotting to the other and leaning her head down to nudge their muzzle with her own. Are you alright? She won't tease too much, but her tail waves high above her.

It is no surprise that the sighthound arrived first. The rest of the band has speed, but T.K is built for it.