"For the last time, shut up. We're not going to catch anything if you keep scaring the prey away with your chatter."
Jake rolled his eyes. "What prey? Is there even anything to catch in this bloody city?" He grunted as he adjusted himself on the scraped tarmac. Debris cut in his chest, his legs, poking him uncomfortably. "We've been here for hours. When you said hunt, I thought you meant something fun."
"That's because you have the attention span of the monkey you are," Liam retorted. He hadn't shifted in all the time they'd lain in wait, sprawled behind the remains of a low wall. Jake just snorted.
"So, what exactly are we looking for?" he asked. "Some of the giant pigeons? A couple of fat, juicy mice?"
Liam kicked him in the shin. "Don't let Mosley hear you say that. He's a nasty little bastard. He could kill you and make it look like an accident."
"You two. Shush!"
Jake craned his neck to the side. A brown haired fox, crouching a few yards to the side, was shooting them a reproachful look. He turned toward Liam, mouthing "jerk", and the both of them had to bury their mouths in their sleeves to suffocate a very undignified bout of chuckling.
Well. Life with the rubbish shifters wasn't too bad, after all.
-- from "City of Foxes" by Cornelia Grey
