[/html]And just like that, it snapped—caught off guard, the bundle of fur that was Maluki went tumbling backward, head over heels, and stopped only when he landed, with a terrific splat, in the greatest puddle of mud neighboring the family den. He lay there, dizzied, for a few blessed seconds before pushing his small, little body to his haunches; mud wriggled between his toes, between his teeth, boiling at his tongue. He simply dripped of it, his belly and legs coated in it, the fur at his chin and stomach oozing the foul, thick concoction.
Little Maluki sniffed, sitting in that cold, awful puddle of mud, and then raised his muzzle into the air and began whining miserably, little tears at his little eyes, altogether making the most pathetic and heartbreaking of sniffling and gurgling noises in his humiliation.
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