They slowed and settled to a stop beneath a huge pine. Catskill glanced up, half-hoping for a raven — they were one of the smarter birds — but didn’t see anything. Catskill leaned easily, casually against the tree, but Amanita was wheezing like a broken bellows and had to brace herself on the tree. She didn’t sit down so much as collapse. Odd that somepony out here would be in that bad of physical shape. Catskill felt the need to make a joke about it, but brushed the thought away. Trotting for miles had given her an outlet for her earlier anger.