HE WAS A PRETTY YOUNG THING
#3
188.

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Hybrid let out a quick coyote yip in reply to Gabriel’s much deeper bark. He could see the Aquila barrelling toward him, and for a moment, Hybrid was worried that Gabriel intended to knock him over. Hybrid started to shuffle away, but found his grip was seriously lacking. He scrambled to get a good hold on the ground, but there was no ground to speak of. Panicking slightly, Hybrid stood completely still, trying to figure out why the ground underneath the snow was so flat and slippery.



Hybrid had little time to consider this, as Gabriel’s large form was soon upon him. Hybrid flattened his ears against his skull, frozen in the spot. He let out a relieved sigh when Gabriel sped past him. The coydog had gained a great deal of momentum from his descent down the bank; Hybrid wondered how he would handle the strange, slippery ground. Hybrid slowly began to make his way to where Gabriel was, taking one shaky step after the other. After taking five steps, he decided that enough was enough, and simply stopped his movements, waiting for Gabriel’s commands or demands.
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