Hoshor Plains Betcha dinner is a doozey

Dingo kicked a few times and rolled to his paws, most of the snow collected across his belly from the girls' continued antics. He shot them a harsh look that quickly dissolved when he realized it was all done in jest; they were busy romping with a red-coated boy for the most part, which gave Dingo ample time to suss out where his shrew had landed. It wasn't anywhere around him; he shuffled through the snow with his rear-end up, shovelling, until he saw one of the girls toss a stick - and with a trailing gaze he saw it land near his shrew, which was promptly swallowed by snow.

HEY! Get off that! He shouted as he reared up again, charging towards the pile of fresh powder which covered his prize. How was he supposed to impress the damn Count, or accomplish his tasks, if these kids were getting in his way? As he careened near, the girl who had buried his prize had already dashed after the red wolf, earning a sneer from Dingo as he redirected his attention to the mound and began to pick away at it with his paws.