Dawnlark Plains Madly

Some sort of buzzing insect whined past her ear. Masquerade flicked her head and snapped at it, then saw her sister begin to move. She trailed after her, muscles still ticking gently from her hard gallop. Part of her hoped that Redd was leading her toward a shady patch where they could rest a while and maybe catch a nap.

Instead, her sister took her to an eddy in the brook, where the water was calm and deep. Masque picked up on the sound of geese and raised a brow, curiosity piqued. She figured they’d have better luck going after the band of mustangs again, though hopefully she was wrong. Anyway, she trusted Redd.

Smiling to herself, the gray hunter positioned herself and crouched among the rushes. The swampy scents of algae and goose droppings were stronger here. Masque sniffed the air interestedly, then looked toward Redd. Their eyes met and she tipped her head to show that she was ready.