Twisted Slough i wish you'd die in the mire

In an instant his muscles were tensed, preparing to chase what may flee. It was almost beautiful the way Cormorant played his part, all with his distressed posture and flickering gaze. The memory held an immediate place in his mind he hoped to never forget.

Magpie's legs began to move in tandem with the other's, stepping heavier against the ground in hopes the wolf's own noise would mask the carelessness of his. The poor thing didn't seem to make it very far, however, as Magpie stopped abruptly and watched with mild panting breaths; a curious tilt to his head. It was laughable, the spectacle of a wolf scrambling up tree roots like a squirrel, but he had to admit it was clever for one so quick to panic.

He enjoyed the sight tremendously, though he knew it best to topple what confidence Cormorant had gained upon the roots before it went to his head. With a huff, Magpie ascended his own shelter of tangled branches, standing just parallel to the wolf on their respective ledges. He lowered his head just enough to still appear threatening, wetting his nose as he slowly made his way down the cluster of roots, and into the patch of mud that separated them. Like a spider descending its web, he worked gracefully toward his fly, offering the edge of high ground to keep him still.

Don't run. His tone held an ounce of malice he hadn't exactly intended, though he carried on with it as if it'd been planned. Didn't you miss me? Magpie feigned a distraught expression, completely contradicted by the subtle wag of his tail.