Deepwood Weald cross straight lines going where the wind blows

His stomach twisted in anticipation as the male led him on the hunt. He expected only small game; it was all that was left, really. Though even a simple grasshopper would be enough. Anything to stop the ceaseless hunger. After two failed attempts by the helpful stranger, however, his hope quickly dwindled and the boy's ears fell back sadly. When the male lay down with a sigh, Remmy sat next to him with another shake of his head. "No matter, sir. I...I cannot hunt very well," he said, offering the smallest of apologetic smiles. The critters were fast, and he knew he had neither the stamina nor skill to chase them down.

Uneasiness returned at the other's words and wary gaze, and Remmy looked into the forest again, feeling his chest tighten. They weren't alone. In the distance, barely heard, there was the quiet sound of a chase, a soft squealing sound, and then footfalls. The Ferretti moved back, rounding the older male to place himself behind him. "I-I think we should g—" he began to say before suddenly a ghostly white figure revealed herself. Remmy caught his tongue abruptly, staring at their unexpected guest, holding her green eyes for only a moment before he saw the tiny mouse hanging from her grip.