to the beat of my own drum

Armando was fleeing the beach as quickly as his little legs could carry him. Whooo buddy he needed to get out of town and he needed to get out fast! He'd made a killing on the beach among the drunks. The goods were stashed high up in trees and well hidden from view, and the only thing left to do was run and hide. He would wait out the heat and then come back for his hard earned goods once the wronged canines had given up and gone home. Heh.

In the early hours of his escape Armando had stuck to the trees. Only later once he felt sure no one had been able to pinpoint his trail had he moved to the ground. Even then his time there was sporadic. With legs as short as his he had to fight the terrain. In the trees, too wide spacing was his nemesis. On the ground it was too tall grass and stupidly big debris. Oh, to be a long-legged and nimble beastie.

For now he was on the ground and moving at a steady march. The spacing between the trees was simply too great for him to travel by bough. Had he been a few pounds lighter, maybe, but a steady diet of "fast food" with too little bamboo meant he was a tad on the chunky side. If the only thing connecting the trees were the sort of branches his stupid Tit could perch then, well, to the ground with the fat panda.