Boartusk Heights maduro

Vincent's challenge would be met with a shrill, protesting screech as she took off after him. Nobody would ever scold him- so Nymphora saw fit to do it herself the only way she knew how. Her words were easy enough to disregard, but her teeth? Not so. 

She would shove him as they ran together, and be shoved in turn. He was faster, sure, but that was soon to bite him in the behind as she stuck a foot out to trip his own. This would be settled one way; a good old fashioned showdown. Nymphora rejected the race. I called it Vincent! get your own! she let out a little snarl.