Redhawk Caldera They didn't understand my lemon styles.
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Ooc — Talamasca
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The little boy was growing at an alarming rate, but it was contained to his body and not his mind. If anything, Titmouse was going backwards in time when it came to his mental state - he seemed more envious of his siblings as they played together, often fighting for the same bone or the same stick, only to get trampled by the lot of them. He was a nuisance — a cliche little brother that wanted all the things, and never wanted to share. So it wasn't that surprising when he wandered off during nap time (rather than sleeping) and went hunting for one of those favorite toys that his siblings coveted.

When he returned to the rendezvous site, he was oddly quiet. Between his teeth was an old bone (from a coyote maybe, or a fox) and it was covered with various bite marks, even a small crack along the distal end. He pulled it along with small grunts and huffs to punctuate the effort, and stopped when he was close to the napping puppy pile, as if to show off what he'd found. But he didn't stop to play with it. He didn't chew it (which must have taken a great amount of concentration, considering it was Screech). Rather, he dropped it before the slumbering puddle of brothers and sisters, lifted a leg, and let a big stream of piss spray across it — as well as them.

The boy had seen the adults doing such things all over the place, and didn't understand the concept of borders yet. By observing their behavior around those patches, he assumed - or understood on some very basic, animalistic level - that they were claiming ownership to some degree. Mind you, he wasn't so analytical about it; Titmouse saw adults peeing on things and thought it looked like a lot of fun.

So, a real puddle grew around the bone, and soon enough the sharp scent of Titmouse's pee was everywhere. He was, of course, quite thrilled.