Sunset Valley stepstones

It must have been prey.

As he kept his pressure on it, it seemed to continue to move. He was at a disadvantage while it whipped through roots or ferns — this was its home. He was a drifter who meant to only cut through the lands like a knife in the way he ripped after it.

Only as he pressed on through this path that he had suddenly forged, he had not yet realized that the rabbit he chased was being sent towards another. Instead he only pushed and pushed, a stumble here and there as the overgrowth thickened around his paws. He worried that it might have been nearing a warren entrance to escape. Somehow that did not dishearten him.

Yet if he had known the risk of losing his chase to another increased, he might have ceased such an aggressive pace.