The sky was a pastel blue—a sheen of grey hinted in the wisp of clouds at the chance of rain, but that did not deter the metallic-kissed pup. Mist clung to his fur in the early morning—his bright peridot eyes cast upon the red leaf he currently pawed at.
Leaves were green—but not this one. His head tilted, his brows furrowing. And when his jaws snapped forward—as if he fiercest hunter there was—it was easy to shred to stale leaf and he found himself coughing in the process.
Leaves were green—but not this one. His head tilted, his brows furrowing. And when his jaws snapped forward—as if he fiercest hunter there was—it was easy to shred to stale leaf and he found himself coughing in the process.
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