Moonspear club can't handle me

the game of cat-and-mouse, or rather wolf-and-weasel, had gone on for a few silent minutes before eventually the youth sprung from his final hiding place and darted off towards the slippery mammal with wide eyes and open jaws. he gave chase, though a more apt description would be more like danced in circles. 

the game ended with acrux out of breath and the weasel in a fit of teasing laughter. the prey in this story had not once thought it would be captured, and the boy, now sprawled out in a pile of defeat, had come to finally realize this. 

the babe stood with a discouraged huff, baby blues trailing over to where his parent's sat. a mild flush of embarrassment crept it's way forward, though he shrugged it off and bounded towards the pair with carefree steps. the weasel's snickering subsided as the boy moved, yet the creature remained still as the youth joined the adults. 

it had likely known the pair of older wolves had been there the entire time, though not looking to press it's luck against more experienced hunters, bounded off in the opposite direction.