Gaston knew he had to hurry. It was searingly hot already, and it was only early morning. A small snail like him could become a dried husk in no time if he couldn’t get to a place of coolness and damp, so he sprinted – well, as much as a snail can sprint – toward what seemed to be a wet haven in the Green.
Continue reading “Short Read: A Snail’s Search, Part IV”