dancing in the pale moonlight

Laughter and piggy grunts filled the air. A light dusting was all the snow that had fallen so far, and that had quickly melted away leaving mud in its wake. Arne stomped about in puddles, Arvid on his heels. The young boy, with a cheeky smile on his face had started it, allowing his rear paw to slip and fling mud into the wathogs face. Arvid had frozen mid stride, a mischievous grin in his eye as he quickly dropped his head and used his tushes to rain chunks of grassy mud down on the young wolf. It was then that Arne realised he had small tusks too, and with barely a thought he dug his own into the dirt in retaliation. What resulted... was a battlefield of churned earth and uprooted grasses, deep, uneven furrows filled with water and mud and two thoroughly mud coated boys. They were too busy tossing earth at each other to notice the newcomer, Arne loping on too long legs to move in and tackle the warthog into submission.

"speech".