Redtail Rise we have a flair for the shade and the inbetween

last post from me!

Astraeus' countenance knits into something resembling neutral displeasure. Established on his fours; the silvercloak's pelage bristles; irked: "I am not short! You're short!"
The gravity of his situation fails to manifest in lustrous, viridian sights — not they are not child-eaters but imply to wisk him away, as the ridge of his home fades, fades, fades from fullsights, closer, closer, closer to the way they came, his altar of origin. But, no! Astraeus resolves this is long-going match of tag, one he means to triumph —

"How bout I chase yous', you have three seconds!" goosey; avidly ticking down, "one....twos....threes!"