Porcupine Ridge Just a ghost running scared

Winded and stunned, the two-year-old remained prone on the ground momentarily. His breath came out in a slow whoosh, and then finally his lungs kicked back into gear and he gulped in a deep breath. Anwyl's nose touched him and he started, having briefly rattled his brain enough to forget what he was doing, but the sight of the soft silvery youth made his tail wriggle as he remembered. They'd been playing a game of chase.

With a sound between a growl and a bark, the tawny male threw his forelimbs awkwardly into the air in a futile effort to hook them around Anwyl's neck and pull him down. Of course, his legs weren't long enough and he ended up grappling with the yearling's chest instead, but hell, at least he tried! When he admitted to himself that it wasn't going to work, he began rocking on the spot until he was able to twist agilely around and regain his footing. Almost instantly he resumed the game by lurching toward the younger man's ear, employing the same tactic that Capriccio had used against him only a day prior.