Whitebark Stream tastes just like pepsi cola

she wavered, trying not to lean into the feedback loop that consisted of the branch and herself. it had taken her much of the morning, but she'd managed to scrabble atop a low-hanging branch not far from the rendezvous. her pawpads were scrapped and one contained a nasty splinter that throbbed continuously (if she'd not become accustomed to such little hurts recently, it might have been an end to the whole ordeal).

but there she lay, triumphant as she straddled the branch awkwardly. she was aware that she was beginning to lean rather heavily to one side, and the wobbling meant she was sinking closer and closer to the earth, and yet stubbornly did she hold on, determined to absorb as much of this victory as possible.