Bearclaw Valley Blowing away the scenery around me

This poor snail

The older wolf laughed. He was amused by the shelled thing being tossed at him, which the boy found odd. Even so, he could admit that he now disliked the dark being a little less. He didn't yet like him, but he deemed him tolerable and a potentially good playmate. His crimson gaze stayed locked on the snail as the elder nosed at it, curious about what he was planning. When the thing came flying back towards him, he attempted to catch it in his mouth by the shell again, but missed. It slipped right through his little jaws, which disappointed him, but for once he wasn't left annoyed by something not going as planned. Instead, he padded over to retrieve the thing, then sat down about a foot way from the larger wolf. His head lowered to drop the snail between his pale paws, before looking back up at the other. "Name?" he inquired, not bothering to specify whether he was talking about the wolf or the snail. Already, his want to leave the den and explore had been forgotten—or, rather, temporarily pushed to the back of his mind.

Xan felt something touching his paw, then, and looked down to see the slimy head of the snail poking out. It was touching his paw, which made him frown. Seriously, what was that thing doing? He plucked it off the ground by it's shell again, the motion scaring the thing back into it's shell. He flicked his head, this time throwing the snail at Cry on purpose. The second it left his mouth, he stood up and took several steps back, eyes glued to the snail as he waited for it to be sent back his way. This time, he wanted to try and catch it, and was sure he'd succeed.