Lost little lamb

When the fork of his tightly wrapped Ignita passed the smithy - and therefore him - his attention zeroed in on her. He watched the way she walked, the swish of her tail, and the way she held herself. Clearly still a little chilled despite the coat his cousin has made her. Perhaps he should line the inside with seal skin to give it better insulation.


He waited until she was fully past before he fell in behind her. Stalking quietly through the snow. A hunting cat, his quarry oblivious. A slow grin spread across his maw as he picked up speed. Silent as an owl, before he leapt. Aiming to swipe at her rump, and keep going. tag, your it. he thought quietly. His little Iggy brought out a different, more playful side of him.