Jade Fern Grove departure to the west

The hare's trail led her toward a stream, which she heard before she saw, the soft burble of it carrying through the dense undergrowth. When she eventually emerged on its bank only for the scent to vanish, Haunt frowned. Her tail began to twitch rapidly, signaling her agitation to no one in particular. She stood there a moment, deliberating, then dropped her head and began combing her nose along the water's edge. She went left, then right, but evidently the lapin had gone for a swim.

Haunt paused, eyeing the water. She didn't mind getting wet and enjoyed rain, likely an unprecedented side effect of growing up during an ongoing deluge. She had never really swum before, however, and she hesitated. She studied the distance across, took note of the water's rapid but soft movements. She lifted a paw and dipped in a toe, then her entire paw, before taking the proverbial plunge and wading right into the stream.

About halfway across, the water deepened enough that she could no longer feel the bottom. Haunt instinctively began to kick as the chilly water closed over her pale shoulder blades. The gentle current pushed her downstream a bit but she made her way to the opposite shore, clambering onto dry land and giving herself a perfunctory shake. Still dripping, Haunt dropped her muzzle and roved back upstream a bit, striking gold as the rabbit's scent filled her nose again.