Silver Moraine Monty Hall Door Mathematics

Darkmoon crouched low among the rocks of the boulderfield, trying his hardest to stay hidden from view. His eyes were focused on the brown & white of the weasel, itself focused on the even smaller pika. He moved along as slowly and quietly as he could manage, one paw placed ahead of the other so, so carefully. He unconsciously held his breath with the concentration of the hunt, and when he noticed this he paused and exhaled slowly so as not to give himself away. Most of the time he failed, but this time he was determined to secure himself a meal.
    It was not to be, however. A rogue breeze blew his scent straight to the pika, and in barely a moment its rotund body had disappeared into the burrow. His own target launched itself after it, but to no avail. This would have been no issue for Darkmoon, who was not interested in pika as a meal anyway, but the weasel had caught his scent also, and was apparently not one to let things slide. As the weasel voiced its frustrations at him, he could not help but pause in surprise. This was definitely a first, being called out by his prey; what had emboldened this particular creature he could not guess. To add insult to injury, it began burrowing and bombarded Darkmoon with a spray of stones. "Hey!" he said in indignation, trying to shield his snout and eyes from the projectiles. He could not help but wonder silently to himself just how he had managed to find himself in this situation.