"Itza... That is my name... And no others...". A puff of steamy vapor shoots out of black, thin, slit like nostrils. They were Itza's. Itza, who had been an outcast of society, those of both man and beast.
A thousand times he had scrapped his claws over the thin layer of gray dirt in his dirt hollow, Itza wanted land. All of those times he erased them, his plans, some taking weeks to finish only to destroy them. For all but they best laid plans were ruined by fools, sheer luck, or idiocy; usually a combination.
And so he began crafting a new plot, a scheme if you will for that is the word that justifies it more.
SNAP!
A long, thin, black neck bolts out of the hole of the hollow, a clump of dirt is disturbed and falls on Itza's head. But he does not make noise, that 'snap' is that of a twig... And the snap of a twig can mean intruders.
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