Hoshor Plains run rabbit run

the boy had his rock.
Harold found himself aware of this fact after the movement had caught his eye and he had turned around, watching the dark form that was recognised as wolf. and then, tossed above the head of the youngster as if it were some prey, not some precious mineral, was the beryl. the sight had him still, and then, when anger clouded his meagre thought process, roar a mighty challenge, the grating sound reverberating across the plain. his lumbering form turned towards the boy, his only intent to take back what was his. 

but another distracted him from his end goal, one with slavering jaws and lantern lit optics. as his rather simple mind tended to do, his target shifted from the boy to the more obvious aggressor, and it was with hurtling speed, a breakneck charge, that he rushed the other boy, yellow fangs jutting from his maw as he neared, a heavy forepaw set to deliver a blow to the small wolf, the paw like a club in its strength. he took no notice of the others that gathered, instead focussing all of his attentions on this mere boy. 

he did not notice the youngster that ran in pursuit, not yet. if he had, surely would he have set about crushing the boy.