Bramblepoint The shape of brat pop to come

There! He spotted movement in the underbrush, a dappling of sunlight and shadow over chocolate fur. With a huff, Peregrine sprang in that direction, crashing through the boscage and paying no attention as various objects jabbed and dragged or else clung to him. A playful growl bubbled up from his broad chest, vibrating in his throat before bursting between his teeth, which he clipped in the direction he thought his quarry to be.