Whitefish River be sure to treasure it

Now that Antares was clued in to what was going on, he wasn't going to let Lane land another free tag. He spun fluidly, pulling his rump out of reach, and then he added a little flourish of his tail just to goad her (or so it seemed to Lane). Antares was clearly practiced at this sort of thing. While Antares's motions were graceful, controlled, and flexible, Lane appeared much more static, and her movement was comparatively sluggish. Fighting-- even just playfighting-- was not her forte, but that wouldn't keep her from enjoying herself. 

Lane was easily lured into following. She lurched forward, aiming a nip at his ankles as he danced away. She continued to pursue as he initiated the chase. Lane was so wrapped up, she almost forgot about the pile of sweet-sedge shoots she had collected. She doubled back after a short moment, grabbing up the pile before pressing after Antares. She would chase and play until the pain in her paw required her to take a break and seek out her medicinal stores. 

In the middle of re-bandaging her infected paw, an idea struck Lane. The sweet-sedge sap would make a helpful addition to her usual antiseptic blend, as the stickiness would help the mixture adhere more firmly to the wound and keep the bandage in place. Lane stirred the sap into her mixture. The thought of discovering new and better medicines was almost as exciting to the yearling as the play session from earlier. Although the afternoon had not gone as she expected, it had unexpectedly turned out to be both fun and productive.