Barrow Fields i would ask, almost insist, on treating you kind and fair

She watched with indestructible glee as her body fluid peeled off the slather of her tongue and plunged to its journey's-end as a viscid splotch against the inkbarred bridge of his muzzle, creeping point-blank as the laws of gravity went into immediate effect. She thought he would have been less faint-hearted with a musket between his eyes.

The horror could only consummated by one clarion soundbite, and from the grimace he wore she saw its approach and braced herself as his body trembled until a stentorian, primordial screech was fit to be unleashed from its thousand year old catacomb within his soul. Squirrels scattered. Birds took off in all directions with an abrupt conclusion to their chirruping. A senile Peter Cottontail's coup de grace unfolded. As for Lusca, the high-pitched whinge came into direct contact with her ear, which disoriented her briefly. Psyduck has hurt itself in its confusion. 

He struggled to circumvent the inevitability of slimy, mucid scum floating around like a contact lens in his eye socket, even going so far as to exploit the proximity of her stilt-like leg, appropriating it as his very own personal hankie. 

A look of disgust descended darkly upon her face. "UUUUUUUUGH!" she bleated with abject offense, possessively extracting her foreleg from his range of motion and wrenching it close to her heart. The purled scrunch of her brows gave him an unequivocal visual aid to witness her contempt for his complete deficit of manners. "So super rude."

tachyon swung his head towards her limb, doing his best to scrape the offensive mucus from his skull before lusca caught wind and wisely retracted her arm. her admonishment did little to dissuade him, and in an effort to rid himself of the trickling slobber  he threw his head back on the dirt floor and rubbed his forehead earnestly along the brambly soil.

this didn't have the intended effect -- if anything, it made it worse -- tachyon now looked like a messy, soggy dog someone had glued detritus to. it was even worse he was snickering -- nay, giggling -- like a little school girl. still on his back, he started to wriggle, aiming to scratch an itch on his spine while removing the malodorous spit. in a gesture of impish abandon he continued to boogey until he was close to one of lusca's legs -- and then he parted his jaws to deliver a quick but gummy nip over the broad surface of her wrist.

Missus voidscowl didn't much approve of his mouthiness -- though the same way a dam tolerated her pup chawing on her lip with the inerudite chomp of freshly scissored gums, she allowed him to indulge in his clowning about for the moment. Tachyon had yet to buckle under the heft of her obloquy, in spite of the many opportunities she put forth, so in light of his efforts she allotted the soot-nosed comic some interaction that didn't involve a flail of tooth and claw.

He landed some indiscriminate nip at her ankle and in retaliation she fret the air above his skull, teeth unrewarded with purchase as he squiggled and wriggled on his back. Leapfrogging away and away from the potential of his mobility, Lusca spun on her heel and sounded off a wheezy yawp, snapping at the air between them. "TAGYOU'REIT!" She cried, ears splayed deferentially as she jounced forward and knocked roughly into his shoulder. 

Spilling tail-over-teakettle onto the ground beside him, Lusca was quick to scramble to her feet and make a break for it into the trees.

his light nip had been delivered and in return rewarded by the consecutive snap of lusca's swinging jowls. tachyon winced and tried once more to sharply retract into his fur in the manner of a hermit crab, not wishing to feel the sting of her teeth again. and yet, her rebuke came in the form of a shriek -- "tag-you're-it!" -- tachyon felt her buffer his shoulder and then watched with faint bemusement as she kiltered into the ground like some be-toppled tree.

he took advantage of her momentary blunder by scrambling to his feet, hunching after her with a stupidly wide grin on his face as she made for the woodland's rise. it took him a few ungainly steps before he met his stride, yet she was as fleet and as darting as a shadow.

he gave hearty chase but soon tired -- with a rugged gasp he pulled up and shouted -- "hey! wait!" his rib-cage rose and fell in quick successions and his wet noise glittered with evidence of his labor. if lusca happened to fall for his trick and turn around, he would use her loss of momentum to give her a return shove before gallumphing off like a long yearling after a full meal.

Though she was loath to admit such a thing, Lusca felt something akin to joyous flitters drubbing her heart as she scampered away, her feet tracing the topographical contours and subconsciously committing the coordinates to an ever expanding memory-map of the Wilds. Every beat or two, she would throw a glance over her shoulder, accelerating when Tachyon gained on her. 

Hey! Wait! she heard his haggard yowl from a distance -- Lusca slowed up and spun on heel to face his approximate direction. Her tail drooped to her ankles, a fang snagged on her lower lip as her lungs grasped for oxygen. Was that it? Was their game over now? Feelings of disappointment whelmed her, and she puzzled over their meaning while loping in a beeline until his presence made flesh. Lusca marched right up to him, "look buddy, your endurance is just utterly disa–" but her declaration was intercepted in a flash -- Tachyon capitalized on the opportunity to collide with her while her tirade was underway.

"WHAT! NOT FAIR!" she shrieked, sassily chucking her head against her shoulders before setting upon him with the flames of blithe ire licking her heels. Mrs. Slenderman flounced over log and shrubbery, burrs catching in her fur as she raced through the pasture. "SNAKE IN THE GRASS!" She yipped, joining up sidelong him and tripping over herself in a motley attempt to land teeth on the tufted furring of his flank. "Pull over!" Lusca bellowed.

tachyon could not have hoped for his ruse to pan over any better. lamb-legged and doe-eyed, lusca had twirled on her stilt legs and advanced -- he could practically see the superiority as it smugly rose from her body and it was all he could do to with-hold his plan -- to steady his aim -- to wait to strike.

but strike he did, fast and swift (reality: clumsily and hard) -- and with a giggle that any self respecting man should have been ashamed of, tachyon peeled away from the sylph. she was hot on his heels and he was sure she was breathing fire from her roaring muzzle -- he could feel the heat of her indignity simmer off of her hide in her breath as she scuttled along his flank and issued a sharp nip. he yipped, bulging his barrel away from the score of her teeth, and in doing so, rolled in tumultuous barrel-roll until gravity reclaimed him and his chest slammed into damp substrate.

he shook his head vigorously, having been slightly stunned by the momentous crash -- and a wide and idiotic grin claimed his features.

your title omg do ya thang do ya damn thang!!! this is how i imagine tachy giggling

Tachyon sheered off, aptly declining her offer of sharp, wanting teeth, and on doing so suffered the loss of balance. She watched on as he did some sort of aerobatic maneuver -- also known as rolling like a baked potato through the grass until he plonked on the ground as a pile of mashed potatoes. 

Of course, Lusca perceived this as a flawless victory and stotted about on tip-toes, tongue lolling while she circled him. Her legs carried her to his fore, and tilting her eyes down at him, the girl very deftly extended a paw -- booping him straight on the nose. "No tag backs." She crooned, swaggering away with hips a-swayin and lips a-cacklin. 

"IM THE SHIT!!!"

he lay spent in the grass, his sides heavy. a misty and furling plume rose from his muzzle, quickly rendered by the lifting breeze. he shrank as lusca crawled towards him, his ears pulled back as he awaited the resounding retribution for his past tags. and it came in the name of a swift "boop" -- followed by the unmitigated edict "no tag backs".

he groaned, flopping into the ground in the manner of a limp fish, his cheek and nose tickled by the blades of rustling grass. he watched lusca go, her hips swinging as she did so -- how kind of her to afford him such a lovely exit to view.