Silvertip Mountain Guilty Pleasures

Chaska had not noticed his silent watcher. He just kept going, faster and faster. He kept going until he leaped ontop of a rock. That was then the small rock in his paw was embebbed even more. He cried out, looking down in realisation of his new injury. Carefully, he took out the rock and spat it away. But he did not lick his wound clean. Instead he stared.

Then he sobbed. Seeing blood on his paws brought back the memory of that young boy he saw. That young boy who gave chase. That young boy, not much older than  nine months, who came after him and paid for it. Chaska sobbed more and more, laying his head onto the rock with his paws inbetween.