Bearclaw Valley underground big

ha. bait taken. the boy grabs the stick successfully. she lets him have his fun for a few short moments. counting her heartbeats. . .uh-one, uh-two, uh-three— and then she yanks her head backwards, hoping that it generates enough force to knock the boy off his paws.

victory will not entirely be hers today, though. for in her wickedness, she loses her own footing, and slid in the mud. like someone trying to navigate a sudden banana peel on the floor, she scrambles but goes down. splashes into the muck, her russet pelt coated with an unattractive gray-brown.

her pride is gravely wounded. all she can hope for now is that the younger child falls with her.