Deepwood Weald The primroses were over.

for @Muses or anyone really, but please no eating him yet?

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"He was small, with wide, staring eyes and a way of raising and turning his head which suggested not so much caution as a kind of ceaseless, nervous tension."

A clump of soggy moss hung limply from his lips, as if the taste appalled him. One ragged looking ear gave a twitch - then as a starling eagerly called through the trees behind him, up he went to perch upon his haunches, limbs tucked neatly against his hips. Big eyes, wide with an alertness indicative to prey, scanned the shadows — but not for long. The moss dropped without a thought. The ragged, yellow-streaked thing was off the next instant. It vaulted across the snow and through a thicket of frozen winter berries, turned heel upon an exposed stone streaked with ice, and plunged in to the dark of a burrow.

Or, well, that was the plan. The burrow was about six sizes too small though; the hare rammed its shoulders in and then, with horror, discovered that its long and sinuous hind limbs were caught out in the open. You'd think that after several years of this, Snowberry would be more graceful, or just generally smarter than this — but no. He remembered there being a burrow here because it had been his burrow. Years of stuffing oneself full of forage did wonders for the figure; although he had been losing weight for the past couple of months, not gaining it. Age would soon get the better of him.

Ah, but better I go out fighting! He thought as he squirmed, propping his hind legs and comically trying to pull free; I survived the Primrose War! Th' skirmishes of Elkmarrow! Even the all-consuming hellfires of the Sentinels! With a grunt and moment of sudden and unexpected deflation, he popped free and rolled backwards, exposing his belly to the world for a split second - and the many dark, singed hairs hidden there.

Frithrah! He shouted at the gleaming sun, and squint from his prone position upon his back through the trees. The buck squished at the ruined fur of his underbelly with paws coated with black and red burns— and then he sighed to himself, Suppose I ought to find myself a Lendri burrow instead, eh? 

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