rules of acquisition 40, 74, 101

Talon wobbled along the half-fallen roof timber in one of the rougher sections of the barn, slowly inches his way upwards with a manic grin on his face. The view on the roof was going to be the best. He'd been puzzling it over for ages trying to figure out how to get up there before the debris holding this old beam up had finally crumbled, sending it nearly all the way to the ground and some judicious positioning of other random stuff had allowed him to reach it enough to scramble up.

Tyrian's call startled him and he wobbled even more, his face falling into a comically dismayed expression before he lost his clawhold on the beam and... fell.

Luckily he'd only made it partway up what would have otherwise been a rather long fall, and he fell into old, rotting hay, screeching the whole way until he landed with a painful thump and undignified squeak. He laid there dazed for a long moment before making his way gingerly back to his paws and weaving his way out of the hay and debris. He paused beneath the beam and sent it a longing glance before sighing sadly and dragging himself towards his uncle's summons.

By the time he reached the rest of the pack his bruises had been stretched loose and he was grinning again, tail wagging, at his pack members. He flung himself down near his dad and sister - wincing when that made those half forgotten bruises twinge - and stretched out on his belly with his back legs out behind him. You know, to be comfortable and all.