Whitewater Gorge Floating

When Derg went up and tagged Finley, he knew he was next-- she was already lunging towards him, and taps him firmly on his chin. He flinches up and to the side, but he's half a second too slow, and half a second is a world's difference in a game based on speed and reflexes.

Despite himself, his tail flags up and waves. His crosshairs on Derg, he crouches, gathering tension in his hindquarters, before surging towards him, a paw raised to graze him on his shoulder. 

He had not played like this in a while, save for the tussle with Donovan back in the river. It had gone awry, because he had remembered, and because he had thought for one second too long, and one second is a world's difference in the brain where neurons can transmit signals at up to four hundred feet per second.

He is determined to enjoy the romp, as if it is something that can be won through sheer force of will. To Colin, it might as well have been.