The Miroslav exodus had been a necessary move for the family, but Léonie continued to feel grumpy over it. Naturally, she missed her companions. She missed the familiarity too. She had no idea where they were going, and what their new home would be like, if the lions there could replace the friends she’d left behind. That uncertainty presented as annoyance, especially as of late when even pestering Scorpius had stopped being fun. Her typical mischief had been replaced by lingering frustration, which could mean nothing good. Léonie was never the type to sulk — that was her brother’s thing — but that was all she’d been doing lately, including that morning.

Especially that morning.

Her patience dangerously thinned by the hour-long downpour, Léonie pushed herself up from the grassy bed she’d hunkered down in the evening before. There was grass and only grass for as far as the eye could see — no trees, no burrows, no shelter from the rain. The little imp huffed and shook her head and neck, as useless as it was, flicking water from her whiskers and ears. She was drenched and hungry and homesick, and she needed someone to feel worse than she did.

Turning her head around, she looked in the direction where she expected her brother to be sleeping. The grass was tall, even drooped over in the rain and wind, and concealed what she assumed was his fat ass from view. Relying on that assumption, Léonie scooped up a thick wad of mud and chucked it in his direction, to make sure his morning started as poorly as hers had.