Munch, munch. The goat glanced up at the gathering storm. Munch, munch, munch. He glanced straight ahead, closing his eyes. Grass tasted really good here, like the grass he had as a kid. Except....it didn't taste as good. Not really able to put his hoof on it, the goat shook his horns, as if to shake the thought from his mind.
Munch, munch, munch, munch. He should probably head back for cover, that storm looked pretty bad, especially when he opened his eyes. But...the grass tasted good enough to stay just a tad longer. Most of the other goats had left, but he couldn't really remember how long they had been gone. Maybe it had been a while. Lately the goat kept seeing more of these loud, fast things, he called them Brrrr, partly because of what the sounded like, partly because of his goat-like accent.
Munch, munch, munch...PLOP...munch. Mmm...yep, he should head back. Grass never tasted good when mixed with mud.
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