The dumb thing did indeed know this woofer on the other side of the strange, imprisoning row of trees. But the significant error was that while Cow could recognize scent and bark, his eyes were unable to adjust to four legged hunter woof. The highland bull had never been designed to solve puzzles that required any amount of brainpower, and now while the peanut brain within the thick skull attempted to give it a try, it produced only white noise. What the herbivore could refer to was instincts, and they only answered that the four legged animal before him on the other side of trees was a carnivore.
He should be used to this, for he had lived with these things for so long. But Cow wasn’t very smart. Predators happened to carry the scent of their prey shortly after devouring them. Shaggy fur shook as the Cow contemplated this. His dearest, two-legged woofer had been eaten by Fourlegs. It made him upset. ”Moooo!” Everything was different now, he knew. The bull took a few steps back, and beetle eyes did their best to offer a glare at the barking woof. One could not walk into trees without getting a headache, but memories insisted that woofers had entered Cow’s area by pushing against the trees and the trees had swung. Perhaps trees would swing if Cow walked into them too. Special trees.
Cow didn’t want to be eaten. ”MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he bellowed, revealing his thoughts on the matter. Then, with confident steps, he broke into a little run, aiming for woofer on four legs. They never were tough when he stomped on them. The bull was as tall as he was stupid, and as his thickly furred chest made hard connection with the fence that so long had kept him within this little world of grass, it was the fence that screamed and scattered in its defeat.