Berenice's smell is dangerously small, the weakest it has been in days. I find myself sniffing for it, trying to search for the quickly-vanishing scent that enchants me so deeply.
Maybe it wasn't a good idea to leave her. I should have dragged her with us, forcing her to at least sit in the car. I don't like leaving Berenice with George also... even though he's probably not going to do anything, anyways.
George can be a hermit sometimes, staying in his room for hours doing who-knows-what.
The lush landscape around us, filled with tall trees, prickly bushes, and many colorful flowers, fades into a concrete road, trimmed grass, and stubby buildings as we reach the edge of our territory.
We own practically the entire forest, earning both privacy and a great place to hunt. Rumors swirl around the surrounding area, some of which we start ourselves, scaring most people into fearing the forest more than death itself.
