Bearclaw Valley With the thrill of a kill, vengefully, the engine will

It took him a few moments to relocate the bird; it went further horizontally than it did vertically, and landed somewhere near the base of a tree nearby. The chubby cub collected his fat rolls and lurched after the bird, laughing uproariously as he chased it down and pinned it with a fat paw. He leaned down to pluck several feathers from its breast, then perked up when Piper praised him and encouraged him to go again (or at least that's how he took it).

Gathering the bird once more in his jowls, the plump Arctic pup took several clumsy steps forward, then tossed back his head and let it fly. This time the bird went a little higher, but was flung backwards over his head into some bushes. Blinking owlishly, the piebald pup spun in a slow circle, trying and failing to spot where it went, and then asked as he turned back to his sister, "Is poofed?"