For a lot of good reasons Triell had avoided the Marsh for all his life. He liked water, but just because the marsh consisted of it it didn't mean it was great. It was not the same as the lagoon or the river. It was just moist dirt and grass popping up in the middle of the place. It would seem he had chosen a good time of year to scout it out. It was drier than it would have been in spring, and as long as he double checked where the land dipped, he kept his toes dry. A small accomplishment, but one none the less. Now to actually find that silly rabbit.

It was the reason he had even came this way. It had shot through the yellow grass, zigging and zagging further away from him. It might seem a waste of his energy and effort. But, right now, hunting that rabbit kept it him form thinking about every little detail of his life. He was determined he would be taking it back to the Draw, a sign of better things.

Especially since its path veered into a fallen tree. One that had spent a long been decomposing, far more earth than tree.  Here it had to be trapped, the foolish thing. He bent down, getting a closer look. Crunch! He felt something smash against his snout. The sensation sent him backwards, and naturally he gave a snort, curt shake of his head. Instead of relief he felt the tiniest legs clinging to his snout. Eyes bulged, locking on the black and yellow before them.