Bearclaw Valley For some birthday or some Christmas that has come and gone

Close combat was fun, but not something Lucas really enjoyed doing for long periods of time. He didn't like being hurt or harming others and the potential was usually too great up close. Grabbing her cheek was success enough for him; with a couple of gentle shakes of his head, hardly enough even to tug Nunataq's face, Lucas let go and darted backward with what little agility he could manage. Now it was his turn to bait Nunataq up to continue the game.

He mashed his fat chest down into the grass and spread his forelegs in front of him, waving his considerable rump in the air while his tail beat to-and-fro. Even now, in the midst of a tussle, there was a rhythmic quality to the tempo of his tail. If one could produce a metronome and place it there, they would find he matched it evenly, even distracted as he was.