Heron Lake Plateau show me your peepis

He stumbled over her and had to concentrate on his footwork lest he fall and lose his target, but in the process of doing that he may as well have been dancing a jig across the petite girl; maybe he would've apologized, but before the thought could surface in his mind, Screech stomped against the ground and found his balance. He leaped around Clover and took off after the coyote — his ears twisting and slanting back when he heard the girl's violent shout. A part of him might've been proud that someone in his family had such pipes, but she was a Blackthorn, so any accolades he could've thought up in the next few minutes were swiftly forgotten.

He wanted to shout back at her — but Screech had to breathe, and he couldn't run, breathe, and scream at some little twat all in one go. The coyote had his full attention again and he zoomed after it across the plateau — steadily gaining — and then there was a flash of silver as Clover came veering out of seemingly nowhere. The coyote loosed a screech of its own and adjusted course, which cut its speed and allowed the Redhawk to catch up. He was snapping eagerly at the canine's narrow hips in the next instant.