“Damn bloody scoutin’. Damn bloody travelin’! A lass can’t catch a break!” Acantha grumbled to herself, stomping her way through the field as blades of grass and weeds crumpled beneath her hooves. How boring this was, she thought, how demeaning! She should be back at her mother’s side, her right hand swine, leader of her glorious armies and the heiress to her vast kingdom! She should be, but she wasn’t, because the sow had chosen poorly, and neither such thing existed, not in Acantha’s eyes. “Doesn’ mean y’ can fix it, lass,” she coached herself gruffly, continuing her single-minded track as she reached the last fading fields of a fireweed.
Beady eyes lit up, and for a moment, the swine considered reporting back to the rest of her float with the news. Not even a breath later and she chuckled, revealing a sharp row of teeth as she trotted forward to the remaining flowers and green stalks. Sharing was for suckers – if they were going to send her off scouting for potential wintering grounds, then they should expect she’d skim a bit off the surface. It was a tax! Her fair share of any sort of prize (and this was a bit poor as far as prizes went). Grunting as she chewed, Acantha quickly resorted to shoving her snout into the earth, seeking out soft roots – this time of year, these were often the best part of plants to eat, and if she were lucky, she might find a few burrowing grubs, too.