After he left the old woman's hut, Boomer left to explore the forest. He was quite hungry, despite having just eaten, so his first objective was something to eat.

After that, he ran around for a bit, then ate, then ran, ate, ran, ate, ran...

Whatever was in that woman's kale pie was not meant for rabbits.

That night, Boomer was accosted by a hungry wolf. He ran away from it. The wolf had no hope of catching up to the bounding bullet.

At the dawn of the second day, all the tasty stuff had already been eaten. Boomer reluctantly returned to eating grass and mushrooms, as he did every spring before the good stuff started growing leaves.

He couldn't stand still for more than fifty words or his heart would explode.

He only knew that because his sister made that mistake.

So he ran, up and down trees, through hills, or so it felt.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Dear holy lettuce in the sky it was tiring.

And yet it wasn't.

Whatever was in that woman's kale pie was tasty.

The herbs in the garden, not so much.

But he ate them anyways, and ran when the woman showed up.

How long would he run?

How long were muscles meant to last?

Night came again, it seemed too soon.

Would he last to tomorrow?

Suddenly the world slowed. Then it sped up again. Now it's normal. Soon it won't be.

Focus. Detachment. Adrenaline? No. Something else.

That tree almost didn't survive the fluffy impact. Or was it the other way around?

The moon was too bright, it hurt his eyes.

Whatever was in that woman's kale pie hurt his eyes too. But they worked better afterwards.

Flashes of lightning, rolls of thunder.

Not lightning. Not thunder.

Golden, but not bright. Steady, but not loud.

Flashback.

A sudden floating feeling?

Feet, flapping, in the air, light, too bright, morning.

What is this pressure around my neck?

Bright lights, soft, warm. The body doesn't stop.

A soft tap to the forehead. A moment of clarity. A human. The tap was his finger.

The mind slows, the body keeps moving. The muscles eating themselves can't feel him now. Eyes attempt sealing protocols.

Can't sleep now though. Must move.

Body moving.

Head staying still.

Thank you, human.

Whatever was in that woman's kale pie, it sucked.