Firestone Hot Springs Wild Childs, Lookin' Good

No, no, no, the man rebuked, tapping cat's paw to the woman's head, Not for beasties. With a gentle shove, he pushed her back behind him, holding her in place with the possession of a dragon claiming his horde, a hind paw acting as his loyal sentry. Mine, he finished sternly, meeting the imp's stare with his own dinner-plate gaze. Rabbit is hers.

When no more compliments befell him, he turned sullenly, a pout forming on his lips like a dark cloud threatening a nice summer's day. If nothing else, he guessed he was a good chef, though the lack of praise left him melting to the ground like a deflating balloon.

He stumbled through his pit-fall path unafraid of the bubbling pools that threatened to engulf him, for if he strayed too close, Legend would be there to guide him back to safety, and it was under her teasing corrections he would stay until his belly met the sturdiness of the earth.

King?, he echoed with a swish of his tail, hmm, I think not. I'm not that old yet, you cougar, he teased, batting her lightly before slithering away into the prairie grass.

When the grass swept overhead like great silver towers, Machi gave up his sneaking. And so the devil would regrow his wings and leap featherlight into the air as he passed over the lofty foliage as a patchwork dolphin over moon-woven waves.