Wild Berry Meadow No time

Silverbirch was sick and tired of this forest grass. The ferns weren't particularly tasty, and whatever grass grew on the forest floor was often smothered out by the knee-high fronds. In little pools the light filtered down in the odd spot, where grass might persevere, but she couldn't understand why they stayed in the woodlands so much. The occasional trip to the meadow was a delight- but it was never easy. Start, stop, head for cover- all because a squirrel made some dead grass rattle. Sometimes they didn't make it to the meadow at all before Ms. Bossy Pants herded them back into shelter. 

To make things worse, Cedar dragged behind, and slowed them down. Silverbirch yearned to race on ahead, to go out into the open and kick up her heels- but those opportunities were few and far between. 

Wolves remained a constant threat- but one that they seemed to have avoided for some time. 

She snorted when the lead mare woke her in the middle of the night, but she took some interest in the disappearance of the downtrodden mare. She nosed at her mother's side. "Are we going too?" She asked, ears flicked forward in a plea.