omg I am enjoying this more than I should be. 8D[/html]
As she was being smothered by the calloused hands of the fisherman--honestly, it was not as bad she she would let on--she heard barking. No, it wasn't the barking that made her pull away from the rough hand, but the yowling that accompanied it. Normally, she avoided her kin unless she met a stranger and made a ploy with him to get something, and then left when the business was done. Otherwise, she rarely socialized. But, unforuntately, her moral went against her ideals, and she had to at least check out what was going on.
A white blur was fleeing from a mutt that seemed literally barking mad. She let on a slight grimace, though not enough to ruin her trick and show that she was actually an intelligent being playing for a scrap and not some empty brained creature. Perhaps the poor tom had a plot go bad and the wolf was irritated enough to give chase. She tried to distant herself from the commotion that seemed to be running down the street--she heard the various yelps and gasps of luperci not so far away as the parade went on--and reached and pressed her head against the man's paw, again mewing like something pitiful. The grizzly clucked his tongue affectionly, and picked up the fish once more. Yes, all he needed to do was lower it. Maybe she would lay next to him while she ate and visit him the next day for another easy meal.
He never had the chance. The white tom, the same one that had seemed to be running for his life only moments ago, jumped upon the table and simply snatched the fish--her fish--and ran off. Did she see him wink those sandy yellow eyes? The poser knew what was happening the moment the fish was gone and did not allow herself to sit still as the cat ran down the road with the street rat, who apparently came off with something himself.
The fisherman bellowed something, but was not able to make chase--the scheme the pair went forth with left the whole block in chaos. Fennel weaved her way between stumbling feet and paws, all the while training hard eyes on the white tail a yard ahead of her. "Oi!" she spat, and pressed herself harder. Now only a tail's length separated them. "I ought ta gut you out!" Now the thought of getting her paws on him motivated her. No, she wouldn't kill him, but the spirits knew that she would make sure he would not ruin her plot again. The image of him jumping on the table and taking the fish burned in her mind, but the thought occurred her to.
The idea was executed before the git could veer off somewhere. She leaped, and praying to the whisps to aid her, reached out for the tail that streamed in front of her, paws aiming to grab and grip.
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