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Date Posted: 19:49:16 11/06/02 Wed
Author: Tew
Subject: "Bwee" is now Šopyright Tew The Crazed Tan. So... BWEEBWEEBWEEBWEE!!!!!

A warbling howl, shrillness acting to identify its caller as a tan, erupts in the woods, scaring the diamen out of nearby birds and Eleis. The scent of new tans pleases him, sending a ripple of gleeful shivers down his narrow limbs. Six of them, and only one other a male. A joyful laugh can be heard as Tew takes chance glances behind him, imprinting each face and scent into his scatterbrained memory. Delighted is really the only word to describe the male's current mood - six tans to train and befriend, six tans to race, six tans to play with!! If only the last female would chase as well... The tan whisks over her head, laughing enticingly.

"Catch the Tew, swift as he flees,
An' if you do, rewarded you'll be!"

A cubhood chant is easily modified to egg his pursuers on, though the words are stretched and of dream-like quality in his speed. Tiny thrills of rippled fur race past like currents of the wind as lean, wiry muscles contract and relax, sending the male speedily ahead. In the Elder Days, an exceptional tan warrior could break 400 mph or more, but nowadays it's a rare tan that can top 200 mph. Right now, Tew levels his speed off at 200, staying ahead of the golden mob behind him but not unreachably so. In fact, he leads the race in circles, making extravagant loops in the trees, consistently within the same, oh, ten square miles of forest. Elygan's attempts to cut him off are met with laughter and easy dodging, gentle movements when considering his raw abilities.

Tew slows slightly, then brilliant baby-blue eyes catch Azeca's move. Thought is impossible and reflexes kick in, and he does indeed choose the third option - though he takes it to an extent that Azeca may not've bet on. Landing briefly on the branch, his black nose an inch from his chaser's, a laugh escapes a narrow muzzle as Tew kicks, powerful if lean muscles catapulting him eighty, a hundred... a hundred and twenty meters into the air. It's pure luck the male doesn't crush his skull by slamming into a tree branch, but as one is sensed to be approaching, he twists his spine and uses that as a diving board to bound into the higher altitudes, wild laughter trailing him as though a Tewish signature - I was here... and you didn't catch me!

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