Light as a wisp of smoke on the wind, Louis fluttered from branch to branch of a tall and bare maple. He cocked his head left, and moved across the branch on black stilts. He cocked his head right, and in a nimble movement flitted to the branch below. His beady black eye focused on the rotund form of a squirrel, and her treasure of acorns under her small flank.
No, that would not do. Those acorns were his, and that squirrel was plenty fat enough. He watched her as she darted across the loam, her buffed tail twitching with each lissome jump of her body. In a shrill war-cry ("AIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEAAAHHH!"), Louis opened his wings and cut through the air like a kite. He fell upon her quick as a shadow, plucking tufts of fur from her tail as she bolted in terror away from her aerial tormentor.
No, that would not do. Those acorns were his, and that squirrel was plenty fat enough. He watched her as she darted across the loam, her buffed tail twitching with each lissome jump of her body. In a shrill war-cry ("AIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEAAAHHH!"), Louis opened his wings and cut through the air like a kite. He fell upon her quick as a shadow, plucking tufts of fur from her tail as she bolted in terror away from her aerial tormentor.
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