Back in the real world, hunters were back at it in the Westbrook forest. Only now, trained soldiers were the ones on the move, not ordinary people. They moved silently, boots crunching against leaves that had been dried out by the sun. Only the mutated trees were still surviving and thriving.
The hunters were not after dear, boars, tigers or anything like that. They were after fluffy bunnies with oversized teeth, squirrels with glowing bushy tails and small dogs--lost pups with two or three heads.
Nimo was part of the team, giggling in response to Phillip's latest joke. She crouched low when she saw a shrub with berries that looked edible--many such purple ones were growing in the forest. But, before harvesting them, they needed to be scanned.
A flash of white fur dashed from the bush, with purple stains on the mouth. "Rabbit," she shouted.
