Kintla Flatlands your problem is, you spent your whole life thinking there were rules

Poor little hare! Belharra watched hungrily as Vallkyrie went uphill. That hare was doomed, she could feel it in her jellies.

You can imagine the frown and disappointment that followed when the scree rumbled, but no hare took off. Belharra was about to holler something to her friend yonder, when a second volley of stones fell and with it came the bolting form of a rabbit. Belharra cackled with glee as the thing tripped over itself in a blind panic. How ridiculous it looked, long legs straight out as it went ass over tea-kettle and right into the waiting jaws of the wolf.

Belharra snatched the thing from the ground midstride, so fast that not even the hare registered his demise. With a snap his neck was limp, his eyes rolling. Belharra turned to her friend as if to congratulate her with a muffled accolade -but it was not to be so...

Instead, Belharra turned and bolted back into the fen neat as you please. SUCKER, Belharra thought with another cackle into hare-fur. How many times have strangers fallen for that old one-two?

Not enough apparently, that it ever got old.