It was a crisp evening. An eerie silence lurked in the shadows. The last bird raised her wings, gliding back to her nest for the night. She landed softly, chirping to her young. She rested in the center, surrounded by five small chicks, snuggling close to her breast. Silence fell across the birds as each one drifted into a deep, relaxing sleep. Before long, the entire area was quiet, from the restless of children to the anxious wallabies. However, one little beagle was far from rest.

He lifted his handsome head off the cool wooden surface. His small snout poked out of the dog house, nose twitching. His eyes glinted a dark amber in the rising moonlight. He sat up uncoordinated, hitting his forehead on the low ceiling. Cursing his clumsiness, the unlikely warrior stepped onto the dark battle field. Because it was tonight. Tonight was going to be his hardest challenge. Close to impossible. But it had to be done. The Grass Hopper has to leave.

The furry gladiator scanned the area, impatiently. The Grass Hopper was nowhere to be seen. A few minutes passed, with no sign of the enemy. He slowly walked back to his home, disappointed. Suddenly, a small blur of green pounced out of the bush, swinging its head around to face him. The warrior stepped back, tail waving. It was time.

His legs bent, jaw set, he pounced, barely missing the Grass Hopper as it jumped away. Landing awkwardly, he fell on his stomach, grazing his chin. No matter, he thought, pulling himself up. He'll be gone soon enough. The warrior bowed down, tail raised high. He leaped again, mouth wide open.

The small insect was trapped between his teeth. Grinning like an idiot, he jumped joyfully on the pavement. The Grass Hopper bounced on his tongue, poking his gums. Tears welled in his eyes as the gladiator spat out the bug. So close. He mumbled a low growl, advancing on the opposition. He stopped, standing face to face with his opponent.

He wasn't the best at fighting. He was awful at play-fighting with his brothers. To submissive, they would tease, poking him playfully with their noses as he grumpily lay on his back. The fights only lasted about thirty seconds, ending when he collapsed, too exhausted to lift his round belly off the dirt.

But a grass hopper. That's another story. If he ate a grass hopper, he could prove to the other dogs how talented he was. He hated being looked down upon as the bottom of the pack. This could change everything. I mean, the Dobermans would be bowing down to him: Pancake, the Grass Hopper... Master. That sounded pretty good to him. He had planned it all out. But he had to actually kill the grass hopper. That hadn't really occurred to him.

He sighed, glaring at the grass hopper. Stupid bug ruining all his plans. Oh well. He's going to kill it anyway. He circled the small insect, watching its every move. The grass hopper stabbed its thin pincer towards him. He leaped backwards, kicking his water bowl. Large amounts of clear liquid staining the tiles. The grass hopper was splattered by flying droplets, dampening its exoskeleton. The warrior clenched his teeth, trying not to laugh.

The grass hopper jumped again. Missing its movement, he twisted his head around, seeking to small creature. It was nowhere to be seen. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. A tiny grey lizard scampered across the roof, stretching its tongue towards a distant mosquito, swallowing it whole. Not there. A small pain echoed through his body, leading to his back. He spun his head behind him to face the grass hopper, a shiver running down his spine. That's not good.