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

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.