Swiftcurrent Creek an occupation popular with demons and ducks

She found a thing. She possessed that thing and seemed so enamored with it that he soon felt an intense desire to possess it too. He thought of nothing else. His trepidation no longer existed. Such was his fixation, as his unblinking stare moved from her cavorting body to the meaty stone set amongst her tiny teeth. Still channelling his inner cat, he shifted soundlessly on his paws and gathered himself for an ambush.

She noticed him then. His focus-narrowed eyes popped open. He was no longer poised but frozen, and the suddenly harsh drumming of his heart thumped against his ears. The stone fell to the ground but it was gold against blue — until it wasn't. She had him held in place with her eyes but once she loosed him from that grasp and took her gaze to the ground, his snapped to the stone. She lunged, and so did he.

There was no branch in his way to even the odds and he ran away with the advantage. His thin muzzle swooped down and he grabbed the stone hurriedly, his teeth grating against its surface as his jaws closed too-roughly around it. In his reckless adrenaline-spurred haste he nearly bowled himself over trying to scurry away, putting several lengths of his own body between him and her before turning to pin her with his eyes.