Redhawk Caldera C'mon, let's move it!

The stone was big and broad, perfect for skipping (if he had thumbs and could, y'know, throw shit). Titmouse didn't seem to notice how cold it was, having been partly buried in snow. His tiny teeth barely damaged the surface but he wouldn't stop gnawing. He chomped and chewed with one side of his mouth and then the other, working at the exposed end of the rock even while Elwood approached him.

Tit seemed to be fixated, and only stopped when he missed the rock a little bit and bit his own tongue; he yelped and gagged on the stone, and withdrew for a second with a decidedly startled, offended expression. His little eyebrows raised and his ears sort-of shivered upright. After a second he was back at the rock, not realizing that a red outline had begun to scatter around him on the snow. The warmth spreading through his mouth was strange tasting but pleasant, and the dumb boy didn't want to stop.