Lost Creek Hollow Mine, Mine, Mine

"Mine!" came Eshe's indisputable screech. A sudden shrill and demanding noise that came from just beyond the lip of her family's den. She did not often raise her voice as such, but when she did, it was because she was being treated unfairly. Or ignored. It was the former, in this case, and in a glaring patch of early noon sun, the sterling sprite faced off with a bold raven who had come to steal a skin-ladden bone from the pit of teething raptors. She was having none of this thievery, but the bird was not so easily frightened by a girl not much bigger than he.

"MINE!" she barked this time, lunging aggressively towards her iridescently winged opponent, and succinctly retreating with the same degree of ferocity, as it fluttered backwards but did not ascend. She knew more words— better ones, in fact!— but equal parts indignation and uncertainty made for a bad verbal cocktail, leaving little Eshe unable to articulate anything else except:

"Gimme!" as bird and pup dove for their prize at the same time.