Firefly Glen F**k Fake Friends

By the time he had reached the glen, he was spent. Spent truly in more than one way and hardly free of the scent @Hydra left across him, he had antagonized her to the point where she had finally given him chase. The last few minutes were nothing but a blur as his stride slowed and laughter broke loose and out of him—he was certain he had escaped her teeth at last, apt punishment for disturbing her ”beauty rest”. His tail was certainly sore where she had undoubtedly broken skin, but it had been worth every moment, even if she had not been inclined for whatever round of rolling in bushes they could have been up to. She would forgive him by sundown and their little dance would begin again.

With a lolling tongue, he lazily took stock of his surroundings to get his bearings. The glen was not exactly where he anticipated ending up by any means but it did work. He did not know it as well as he did the forests were brambles choked every path or the rolling hills that broke through the wilderness. But he knew where the herds roamed through, where water crisp and clear and clean cut and curved in tight corners. Down here the earth leveled out and spread for miles; the lack of drastic elevation change would allow him to cover good time as he made his way to find such a water source to quench his thirst.

And of course, there was haste—no guarantee that Hydra did not trail in his wake, knowing he had worn himself out and continued to do so. He cleared his throat as he briskly crossed a pile of tinder and felt another tickle of laughter. Ah, she had been so angry for a moment but he knew better. She had enjoyed the chase and for now, his refuge had been the outskirts and lands beyond Moonspear. She wouldn't stray far, not with the season. It afforded him all the rest he would need.

Or so he believed.