Mistblade: "Aaaaaaah!"
Maple Syrup: "Aaaaaaah!"
Fat Goose: "Aaaaaaah!"
Mistblade: "Look! That's my best friend!"
Maple Syrup: "We live in the same treetop tower!"
Fat Goose: "We eat together and go to school every day!"
The three of them locked eyes, fists clenched, screaming together. Mistblade, stuck in the middle, kept whipping her head back and forth—shouting at Maple Syrup on her left, then at Fat Goose on her right—so busy she looked like she might sprain her neck.
The row of spectators who had probably turned from Moonlight Marsh fans to haters were now all staring at the screen.
Fat Goose slapped the blood elf next to him several times. "See that?! Did you see that?! Moonlight Marsh!"
The blood elf gave him an icy look, then glanced down at the freshly polished leather armor he'd worn today. "Do you want to keep that hand?"
Fat Goose tucked his paws close to his chest, edging toward Mistblade for safety—only to get smacked back in place by her tail.
