Qeya River Marble rye

Faced with certain death at Kekoa's snapping jaws, the raccoon bailed- and went straight from the frying pan and into the fire. Ksura was ready for the raccoon when it wheeled, and as soon as he grabbed a hold of its loose, baggy skin he realized that the creature would for certain put up a fight, and scream bloody murder while it was at it. Claws scrabbled at his fur, and those odd grabby-hands that allowed it to climb grabbed a hold of his fur and pulled. 

Ksura shook the raccoon like it was a ragdool until he could reposition his grip and shake once more. The creature went limp, twitching once or twice before he dropped it. 

In each of its paws, a hunk of Ksura's fur. The oddity of it made him laugh.