[PRP] Stop that frog! (Marshrush and Burning Bush)

[Samuel Carlin]

Frogs were tricky things. Some of them, at least. Some of them were so drab and boring, so perfectly suited to life in the swamp, that a hunter might all but stand on top of them before they gave themselves away with a croak and a leap, splashing into a deeper puddle.

Not this one. This one was bright colors, vibrant blues and hot yellows. It stuck out like a sore ear.

Marshrush wanted it. He'd been creeping up on it for some time now. Slowly. Patiently. Waiting for the perfect moment to rear up on his hind legs and come down hard, a hoof squarely on the hopper's back. One more step forward and he'd be in the perfect position...

Then there was a splash at the far edge of the puddle and ripples across the water due to a dark doe's footfall. The frog reacted as frogs would do and lept for cover.

"What? No! Stop that frog!"  

[Minsuil]

In the fall, the rain fell heavily into the swamp. Burning Bush was returning from the desert and found the wetness a little unusual. Was she really gone for that long? It seemed as if she had gotten used to the arid desert, so much so that the numerous puddles on the swamp floor seemed foreign.

The doe started ticking off the days in her head. If she had calculated correctly then she should arrive at the Ghostthistle Mound soon. Maybe three days more of travel… Unaware of her surroundings, Burning Bush bumbled across an root and stumbled forward. Her haphazard steps fell heavily against the ground scaring every living thing around her away. The doe felt embarrassed and was glad no one was around.

That relief was short lived, however, as a shout echoed through the swamp. Burning Bush turned her head just in time to see a bright blur bound pass her leg.

"That frog?!" She yelled back.

Samuel Carlin

OTL

 

[Samuel Carlin]

And there she stood, just stood, while the frog bounced right by her. While he launched himself toward them both in the hopes -- no. No, he'd never be fast enough. Once those things got going, especially when they were scared, they were fast. Really fast. Too fast for him to catch.

So he stopped, two or three paces away. He didn't run into her, though he could have, easily, and his irritation was such that he could have excused it. But he didn't. He stopped and snorted and shook his head. "Did you see any other frogs just flinging themselves around, needing to be stopped? Yes, that frog. The one I was hunting."  

[Minsuil]

Burning Bush didn't mind the buck's accusations. Rather, she found them amusing. She wanted to laugh, but then, maybe that wasn't the best thing to do. Sometimes people took laughing to mean that you were looking down on them or something, when really, she just found the whole situation amusing.

"No, but you know, I don't really spend my time staring at the ground looking for frogs in the first place. But really, what kind of hunter loses his prey like that?"

Samuel Carlin