PEARL’S POV
The wind whips through my tousled hair. Some mud remains from the pond which makes me feel more like bees attacking me each time my hair slaps my face. It is hard to tell just how fast Randolph is going. Past the broken swing set, the carousel, and out the gate, he darts. I don’t want to hurt him, but I had to grip his fur as hard as possible. “Slow down, Randolph! Are you trying to make me fall?” I yell out, in hopes he will listen. Gradually, he does.
Thank God. He is slowing down a little.
“Fine, I will slow down, but if you try to be stubborn and independent,” he warns, “I will show you how fast I can really go. Are we clear?” He asks while looking at me over his shoulder.
I cannot help but glare at him at the back of his head. “I am not being stubborn, Randolph. It is
