Heron Lake Plateau if i die because you farted, i'm taking you with me

The autumn breeze swept through his fur, though with no elegance - grey hairs stuck out in odd places, swimming back and forth as the wind blasted him from the side. Eyes of a burnished orange glinted in the light, predatory gaze honed in on his prey; the blackthorn's paws carried him slowly forward, creeping on his belly with his tongue poking out the side of his jaws. It was a habit that took hold of the boy when he was focused, all his senses trained on his object of focus.

In this case, it was a stone. Cinder sprung from the undergrowth with a yowl of victory and landed upon the lifeless thing with a thump from beneath his feet. "Haha! You cannot escape the great Cinderman!" Tail smacking roughly against his hind with the excitement of his own game, his teeth latched around the stone and he shook it with force in his jaws. "You have been stopped!" Perhaps he could deposit his prize in the paws of Tywyll, or even Raleska.