i got my mind made up and i can't let go.

Fin was after that little bastard of a fox again. For some reason, it seemed the little bitch had decided that the sterling mockingbird would be her newest little plaything. The eta had woken that morning to find two beady yellow eyes laughing wickedly into hers. Before she had even come up with the wherewithal to snap at the critter that had invaded her home, said critter was out into the wild in a flash of russet. It had taken a few moments, but after the initial shock had evaporated, Fin was up and out the door in its wake.

She had chased it quite far--probably farther than she should have been proud of. But unfortunately, once the spitfire Blackthorn set her mind to something, it was almost physically impossible for her to change it. Her mind had decided that the little fox would make the greatest addition to the Northeast cache that the Plateau pack could ever have dreamed of, and so she was not about to rest until it was dead and buried with the other bastards Fin and her packmates had destroyed.

As Finley crashed over the the small ridge, completely missing her target and barreling head over heels into a wide thicket, part of her was actually considering that she maybe should give up this game. Maybe it was time to admit defeat and to admit that she had been bested by a tiny, insignificant little fox. But then it popped up in front of her, absolutely beaming at her with delight. She stared at it, somehow even more infuriated by its existence when seeing it upside down. The critter dashed off again, leaving Fin lying in a precarious position, flat upon her back with thistles pricking at her spine as though mocking her continuous failure.

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