Cato hit the ground with little grace, in what seemed to be the middle of a forest. His feathers ached, having been snagged on several branches on the way down, scrapes and cuts spread over his wings and body. It was abundantly clear he had little experience in this type of terrain. The weather was odd, everything was humid and thick, and it was overly crowded.
It was true though, he didn't miss the dessert's scorching heat or the sparse water. Food was much more generous and, admittedly, delicious. He'd managed to bulk up in just the few days he'd been here, and felt pride in it. Marching forward, catching his hoof hear and there, Cato was on a mission to find a pond, and some of those delicious yellow flowers he'd had the afternoon before.
