Moonspear every night falls prey to sunrise

She had fallen behind, sufficient enough that he dared to give pause. A foolish tactic here, a great risk, but the copse of trees would provide him with more time to better assess the situation as it unfolded. His tongue lolled as he drew in the cold air, ears turning this way and that as he allowed his gaze to scan the surest way he anticipated her coming... or so he thought. Seconds ticked by unnoticed as he became aware she was no longer in pursuit of him, and his senses went into overdrive pondering where it was she had disappeared to.

Of course the moment he found out, it was on the cusp of it being a moment too late. He heard the snow shift, the branches moved, and beyond them came a black mass as quick as lightning from them. Surprise was there only to cross his features for a moment as he backpedaled through the loose litter of earth and frost, but she had him swiftly in her grasp with no room for doubt. Thus began the chorus best described as a dissolution of snarls and whines—he would put up a playful fight, but intended to hold her and bring him down with him if at all possible.