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

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.