The winged fox fluttered across several branches and finally settled on a safe perch. Or so he thought. Swiftpaw panted, unaware that his ‘perch’ was in fact, a giraffe. The giraffe swayed slightly, caught off balance by something light landing between his short horns. It grunted and blinked excessively long eyelashes.

Swiftpaw gulped, realizing that his perch was swaying just a little bit too unnaturally. He froze, unsure of what to do next.

The giraffe shook his head slightly, then slid his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. He intended it to investigate what was on his head, but Swiftpaw took it in an entirely different way. The tongue slathered up the side of his head, leaving a patch of his fur in slobber soaked disarray. The fox felt every hair on his body stick upright.