Sleepy Fox Hollow But it only takes what it needs.

Anselm marched into camp with a half sodden branch in his jaws. One end was rivertouched; sprigs of duckweed dragged from one side, their fragile fronds leaving marks in the snow. The other edge was contorted like a gnarled antler. This end Anselm bore before him like a greatsword. 

His path was aimless, but in specific, he sought @Siku. One, to show him his absolutely epic prize — but also to taunt him. 

And maybe poke him with it a little bit.

siku was rear down in a den of his own.

it was there he kept his good things. plants of favor or trinkets he thought looked nice. it did not take much to impress the young paleo man. anybody could deduce that by his collection.

as it stood now though, he did not hear the approach of another.

which left him completely unguarded and free for poking.

Ever since Reyson had found him, Anselm had worked on his tracking. As it was, it was profoundly difficult to scent-track AND hold a weapon between your teeth. But through great perseverance, our hero managed to fumble onto a scent and follow it in the haphazard manner of a drunk. 

Enter Siku, sitting in his den minding his business. Here comes Anselm, the wolf-equivalent of the Kool-Aid Man with a stick held aloft — he crashed in and announced VOOK VHUT I FOUND! only severely muffled by, well, said object in his mouth. 

And then he swung it towards Siku’s buttocks, pointy end first of course.

"VOOK VHUT I FOUND!"

he yelped with surprise, stumbling back. right into the stick unfortunately. uh oh. and then he lunged forward to try and dislodge his buttcheek from being stabbed.

only to smack his head on the den entrance.

siku was not having a very good go of this, clearly.

Whoops. That was not the reaction Anselm expected. Siku startled, jamming his back end against Anselm’s prized Buttender, loosening the weapon from his jaws. Simultaneously, Siku bashed his head against the den’s roof as the stick clattered loudly to the ground. 

Anselm was left collecting his lost composure. But when he did, poor Siku wasn’t his primary concern — that honor belonged to the stick that laid between the two of them. 

His eyes narrowed as Siku transformed from target to a stick-thief in his mind. Anselm lunged for the stick with Mine! roaring from his mouth. If he grabbed the stick in time he’d hold it aloft like a trophy or a virgin won at the Olympics. If bullying Siku was an Olympic event, Anselm would come home crowned in Gold.

oh god, he felt nauseous and dizzied for a few seconds.

anselm's stick rivalry went over his head with ease. instead the boy could only plop himself down on the ground nervously. a gentle giant easily fell.

david and goliath with way less aggression.

what?

he asked in a dull tone as he blinked and looked up to the other boy. comfortable with his less nauseating spot on the ground.

AHA! Success!!

Anselm lorded the stick into the air like it was a prize. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Siku plop to the ground, no doubt in bitter defeat!

Minemf. Anselm reiterated, unaware of the budding nausea in Siku that he may have had a hand in inflicting.

A few revolutions around Siku and Anselm grew bored of this game. He eyed Siku again, this time deciding to see how close he could bring the stick to Siku’s face before he flinched.

siku was not a boy liable to snap when he ran out of patience.

only become a blabbering disaster. which he teetered towards now after anselm mumbled something again, then came back at him with the sick.

siku jerked his head away this time, allowing himself to feel the repercussions for the sudden movement. mainly because —

whu— do you want my eye, anselm?

bewildered!

This game was only fun to Anselm as long as he was confident that A: he was winning (clearly, undoubtedly, he was) and B: his participant wasn't crying. B's results seemed shaky at best -- Anselm pulled away.

No. He said glumly, mouth still clamped down on the stick. If Siku wasn't going to be a willing subject, he'd have to find something else to capture his attention.

He placed the stick where he believed it was out of reach, turning around in a crouch. I want that tail though.

POUNCE!

Anselm's rough play was short lived - it finally occurred to him Siku did not enjoy such enterprises. With a grumble Anselm conceded, inviting Siku out to explore with him as he searched for Emmerich.