Jars, Jars, Jars

Fishing was harder than she expected, and she figured this was going to be too. She regarded the jar with a disgusted side eye. She could barely hold it, let alone try to catch with it. It was dumb. But there were prizes, and she wanted the damned prizes. She barely knew what they were, but she still wanted the prizes anyway. Why? Because they were prizes.

Grumbling to herself, and holding the jar awkwardly in her jaws, the giant aurora-coloured wolf picked her way towards the area with the most amount of fireflies she could see. She plopped down with a grumble, and dropped the jar in between her paws with a huff.  Maybe she could get lucky here and get a few. How, though, she was absolutely uncertain. Maybe she could try to swat them into the jar? ‘As long as they live, right?’ she thought with a sigh, squinting in concentration at the fireflies. With another angry grumble, the wolf tried to swat the fireflies into the jar. She wasn’t sure it was any success.

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