Bronte's heavy paws plodded the ground as she took off running, chasing after one of the feathered things that often pecked around in the village. She didn't like them unless she was chasing them, because then they were funny to watch. Unlike the ones in the sky, they couldn't fly.. Only panic and flap around until she either caught them, or one of the humans shooed her with a broom. The thing squawked and ran jumping in the air as if to attempt to take flight, but as usual, it failed. Shrill barks rang through the air as she darted through people, making a few of them drop their belongings as she sideswiped their legs. The thing didn't get far before she snared it in her jaws by the wing. She shook her head furiously, until it's squawking stopped and the thing hung limply in her jaws.
"Damn you, you filthy mutt!" A furious man scampered after her throwing things at her, slipping and falling as she ran under him and into the woods. The chicken was still in her jaws as she ran into a thicket. The man could be heard cursing in the distance as she settled in a brier bush and dropped the bird, panting. The thrill was exhilarating while it had lasted, but she knew as soon as she returned, she'd be met by that angry man or her disappointed owner.