They hadn't even made it a quarter mile down the "forbidden" trail when they heard rustling.
Not squirrel rustling.
Not wind-in-the-leaves rustling.
Nope. This was panicked, *desperate* rustling.
Allen raised a brow and motioned for Fina to stop. "You hear that?"
"I hear someone losing a fight with a bush," Fina whispered, ears twitching. "And they're losing bad."
They crept forward through the undergrowth until Allen peeked around a thick patch of ferns—and froze.
Bent over in the dirt, kicking helplessly at some clingy vines, was a bunny girl.
And not just any bunny girl.
