Sun Mote Copse did gyre and gimble in the wabe

She managed to grasp it between her own tiny mitts, her blunt muzzle descending to apply her sharp little milk teeth. When Colt pulled it back slightly, she growled through the flesh and fur in her mouth, its high pitch making it sound more like a rumbling squeak than anything particularly ferocious.

There was something knobby pushing at her small pink nose and Sugar tried to wriggle it, to no avail. The motion tickled the sensitive olfactory tissues, prompting a sudden sneeze. She let go of Colt's foot as a second, then a third, assailed her. A fourth threatened, her face scrunching in preparation, only to fade without ever making an appearance.

Sugar was left blinking and wiggling her sniffer. She could feel something dangling from her nostril and instinctively bent her head and lifted a paw simultaneously to swipe at it. A thick rope of snot extended between nose and toe, momentarily fascinating the youngster.