Bearclaw Valley Rubadubdub

An itch, in the worst spot possible, prodded at Drust's mind. Just above the tail. A spot not easily reached. Any attempt to ignore it, as his large paw pads climbed over scattered rocks and boulders, proved futile. The occasional huff and grunt escaped from him until it was too much to bear and he stopped a moment to look around. 

Spotting what he was looking for he trotted over to a nearby conifer tree with few low hanging branches. Its coarse bark the solution to his problem as he leaned against it and rubbed his backside. 

A sign of relief and pleasure. 

Though his initial itch was satisfied he continued, rubbing his sides and then his face against the bark of the tree, enjoying every second of this simple pleasure.