Gala'bere

KNICK PELTED DOWN THE STREET, RUNNING FROM THE ANGRY HISSING BAKERY SMOL. THE GREEN SMOL ATOP HER HEAD CLUNG ON WITH TINY SMOL CLAWS, MAKING HER WISH IT WAS NOT ON HER HEAD. BUT, NOT MUCH SHE COULD DO NOW. SHE JUST HAD TO RUN. SHE TURNED A CORNER TO FIND WO WHISK PAST, A TINY RED SMOL ON HER HEELS. LITERALLY. THE THING WAS CLINGING ONTO WO'S ANKLES WITH ITS OWN CLAWS. KNICK WAS GLAD SHE WASN'T HER. WELL, SHE WOULD MEET THE SAME FATE IF THE BAKERY SMOL CAUGHT HER. AND SO SHE RAN, RAN, AND RAN, BUT THE FELINE WAS QUICK AND ITS STAMINA WAS CRAZY. KNICK WOULD HAVE TO HIDE. AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE, SHE NOTED SOME GOOD HIDING PLACES, UNTIL DISCOVERING A LITTLE GARDEN BEHIND AN OBSTACLE COURSE OF RANDOM CLUTTER. GOOD. SHE LEAPT FOR IT AND TUMBLED INTO THE GARDEN, HIDING BENEATH THE LEAVES. THE BAKERY SMOL CAME TO A STOP, LOOKING AROUND. THE SMOL THAT WAS ONCE ON KNICK'S HEAD SUDDENLY CHIRPED, AND SHE LOOKED UP TO SEE 3C CROUCHED AMONG THE GROWING (AND NOW TRAMPLED) PLANTS. THE BAKERY SMOL, HEARING THIS, LEAPED DOWN. IT SCRATCHED KNICK IN THE FACE, THEN LEAPT ONTO HER BACK AND SETTLED DOWN. THE ORIGINAL SMOL WENT BACK ON KNICK'S HEAD. SHE WAS LITERALLY FACE DOWN IN THE DIRT. HELP. IT IS NOW WO'S TURN.