Lost Creek Hollow One chance

Out of breath and limping terribly off the leg he had previously sprained, the lithe creature came bounding as best he could towards the territory limits and then surpassed them, stopping only once he was over the invisible line to sprawl upon the dirt and lament his terrible, woe-filled luck. His hind limb was aching, with a scrape and deep gouge to the attached hip. Still, Mink had made it this far! He was pleased with his perseverance; but as he lay there panting and gathering his wits, the sound of movement - and the scent of Arbiter - drew his attention, forming an invisible eddie of worry around him. 

This moment was unlike the last; he had vanished long enough for scents to fade off his lustrous coat, and worse than that was his lack of an offering! His attempt to hunt further afield had ended in disaster! Not a fish, not a bird, nor even the most pitiful of field mice did he bring! He took a few deep puffs of the boggy air and forced himself to his feet, limping along each time his injured limb made contact. He would seek out Arbiter! He would tell her of his goal, of his failing, and hope wildly for the best!