The Sentinels the road to hell is paved with adverbs

The shape paused and he felt as if he were chasing his own shadow. He did not move a muscle for what felt like ages (it was several beats of his rabbit-heart and nothing more) before stooping to look down at the darkness spreading out beneath his own paws; double-checking with a glance, and up his eyes went again to trace the fleeting shape in its dispersal. He shifted slightly to give a curious pursuit and paused with one paw raised, sniffing the air in sharp little puffs. Then he began to stride again - to the spot where the shadow had initially lingered, which drew his nose and then his teeth, as the boy picked at some of the worms still nesting on the surface.

One such worm must have been burrowing quickly, for it rooted him in place despite a few tugs and twitches of his muzzle; an inaudible snap severed the worm and the boy caught what he could on his tongue, then swallowed. Sour; he grimaces and huffs at the dirt, but moves along. His steps deftly land in the same spots as the shadow's own, leaving no room for noise as he slips after the shape.