His legs still felt weak from the chase, his nervous system pumping out the last of the adrenaline. Delicately, his mouth held onto the soft underside of a porcupine he had caught. Skittles had put a lot of effort into finding this meal. The porcupine had put in the same amount as he had to survive, but ultimately lost the fight. Several thick spines protruded from his muzzle, evidence of the battle. His steps tired and slow, at last they came to stop at a bush.

Casually, he noticed a pair of eyes, and then followed those eyes to a spider, forgetting all about them. Entranced, he began to watch, as if his whole life were caught up in the web and bony legs of the spider. The carcass fell from his mouth and hit the ground with a dull thud, but he didn't notice. comparatively, the creature's legs were long and exaggerated, reflecting the light just so, as if in a hurry but never showing it. Sometimes a silver thread would protrude from its rear, other times not. Tiny, it continued about its miniature world, determined to survive in the place so large and looming around it, ignorant of everything else out there. Perhaps his life was like that, whimsical, just so, just another spider.

As he watched, he noticed there was also green. Turning, he began to stare at the woman's eyes, as if not realizing that a wolf behind them existed. The individual webs and strands of light and dark that fought for space, interconnecting, intertwining, a chaotic jumble of disorganized organization. Emerald, the color of the forest on the day of the grasshoppers, grass, the unfurling buds of a flower yet to bloom. Skittles continued to pant, as if frozen in time but forced to do nothing but stare. His expression blank, he looked on as the seconds ticked by.

With the onset of sound that made up words and conversation indicating wolves talking, he blinked, startled, and his skin tried to jump off his bones in a jerking motion. His eyes gradually re-focused and he discovered that he was not just looking at a bush and a spider and the color green, but rather a wolf also. "I-I-I....", his tongue fumbled but ultimately found nothing to say, the proverbial vehicle engine grinding to start but ultimately dying to clicks. Perhaps his battery was dead.

At the introduction, he made a strange face, a cross between a scowl and utter bafflement, as if it were the most important thing in the world, and also the strangest. "Nina is a gurl's nameee....", he stretched his last syllable, his eyes turning to look at the spider now, and then at his catch. Involuntarily, his paw went up to his nose, delicately wiping his muzzle, but catching on the porcupine spines stuck in his face. A whimper tried to protrude from his throat but could not come out. "Skittlesssssssssss", he remarked, as if half excited, but his voice neutral.

He ducked his head and went for a bite of the underside of his catch, but his spines caught in the others and he jerked away in pain. A violent sneeze suddenly racked his chest. And another. Anxiously, he pawed at his nose again. Nothing happened. His obsessive compulsive side kicked in and a fury of sneezes and rubs followed, each one only agitating the site further, and escalating his actions to a higher level of frenzy. A series of whimpers began to build until they were audible. Suddenly, his tail jerked and he bucked as if something were on his back. It served to cause his movement to reside.

He stared wishfully at his meal with bleary eyes coated over with even more exhaustion, realizing that he would never be able to eat it with his spines. In fact, he may never be able to eat again. Perhaps he would die of starvation.

Feeling sour, he made a gambit "Eat. I can't." He moved away, stood, and then allowed his body weight to flail, effectively plopping down in an exaggerated 'dying' motion. He licked his paws for the fifth time today and gingerly began to pull on the spines, accompanied by persistent whimpering.

"ARRRRGUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaauuuuuuhhhhhh!", he groaned so loudly it could have been mistaken as a howl. He did another swipe to his nose, for good measure, but effectively accomplishing nothing but looking like he was flailing his paws about wildly. He breathed in and followed with a sigh. "Okay.", he squeaked out in a breath.

"No touchy! Mama always says never let anyone touch Skittles, especially in private areas.", his voice was an imitation of something foreign, rythmical, as if reciting the alphabet. "Except for Mim, Skittles lets Mim touch him...", he paused. "... because he loves her...", another pause, "...but she never loved him and went and died all old and lonely like.", he concluded, staring at his paws as if they were sausages that flew around in heaven like celestial whales.

"No touches the Skittles. This...", he moved towards a tree with gigantic leaves at the height of his head, grabbed a branch, tugged, tugged some more, and then flew backwards with a branch. He plucked off the leaves one by one, placing them side by side with the most precise efforts. He began to fidget with the last leaf, it didn't match the others, being smaller and slightly crumpled on one side. "It puts the leafs on it's paws...", he explained in a sing-song tune, as if half forgetting about the situation and completely about the pain.

"Neeeeennnnaaaaaaa," he sounded out the word to himself, exaggerating all the syllables. This female wasn't so bad?