With shallow, quiet breaths, he waited patiently with his ears pushed as far forward as they would go so he could listen for the little sparrow’s footsteps. Would she desert him in his snow fort and continue her adventure solo, or would her curiosity get the better of her and cause her too seek out the little smudge?
It seemed as though the latter option was winning. She was falling for it. He couldn’t believe it, but she was falling for it. The russet princess really believed that he had given up so easily and allowed her to be the victor. In your dreams, Nalda… he thought menacingly to himself, his brows narrowing mischievously as he grinned to himself. He learned forward, balancing his slender body on the balls of his feet to listen to the ‘pitter patter’ of Nalda’s steps. Her voice called out, first with his name and then — a question. Him, a chicken? Hardly. More like devious little hawk awaiting it's prey. And it looked like Nalda was next on the menu… Figuratively, of course — little R was no cannibal.
He waited a few moments after her question filled the air, his body tense as he readied himself for his next attack. Without further adieu, the little smudge flung himself through the snow, launching his little body — and a whole lotta snow — in Nalda’s direction. He aimed for a few paws lengths in front of her, although he hoped that the snow would drench his playmate. His former fortress floated through the air around him, almost concealing his dark body as he enjoyed his few moments of being airborne. Who was the chicken now?