Heron Lake Plateau how cheerfully he seems to grin

She felt something slip between her sharp milkteeth—perhaps this time, the stalk was relenting. But alas it was not meant to be, for it was only another layer of its thick body sloughing off. She realized the error of her calculations about the same time she heard something gallop up behind her; her ears flicked backwards just in time to hear a voice come booming out of the unknown behind her.

She screamed. A girlish shriek unbridled from clenching jaws—to hell with the murder of plants. The stalk was forgotten as she rushed forward into the thicker brush, intent on escaping whatever, rather, whomever had unleashed the battle cry. Phoebe wasn't foolish (or maybe she was) enough to look behind her and find out who had been so cruel, but it hardly mattered as she wildly searched for somewhere appropriate to hide. The thick brush provided some cover that she was swift to use to her advantage, though by then a flash of anger had flickered into her gaze as she hunkered low in the sticks and leaves... but was the monstrous bellower in pursuit?