Whitefish River been a liar, been a thief

Suddenly, the chase became a race - or a hunt, perhaps. It was impossible to tell from a distance whether the children were playing together nicely or seeing one another as competitors, but whatever was the case, they took off after the butterfly. Perhaps for Spica, it was a little bit of both; a little bit of competition, a little bit of hunt to synchronise with her sister and most trusted companion. She exchanged a sly grin with her sister, brief before she dashed on after the butterfly with a wave of her tail and, of course, a Wow! while her sister decided they should get it. Well, duh!

Spica took a big ole pounce at the butterfly, but her boundless confidence backfired as she landed in a bramble bush. Swym get! It was all up to Syrma now whether they would succeed in catching their prey successfully or if they would fail miserably in their quest for the butterfly. Also: Ouuuuch, but Spica didn't quite realise the tangle she was in yet until she would stop breathlessly watching Syrma continue the hunt and actually move.