Witch's Marsh After the foxes have known our taste

Coast was getting himself worked up as the followed the hunter. Something about preying on another predator fascinated him, and he wondered why he didn't do it more often. Imagine how let down the mercenary was when he realized that the hunt was lost, his quarry having given up on this particular trail to follow. He didn't have the patience to wait until he found another, but he was irritated enough to complain about it.

"Oi!" he shouted over the distance, stomping downhill with his tail flag-poling behind him. "What's with the givin' up, then? I was depending on you to get us some grub, pal." His tone was markedly derisive.

Terribly sorry for the wait!