Sandy eyes the bird. It doesn't seem to realize the danger as the waters encroach. That's good. It gives them time. He eyes the branch and casts his gaze around at the surrounding jungle. The ground level thorn bushes and brambles thickets are tall and seem difficult to break through, but if he makes a path, the bird might follow. He steps forward and begins to pull at the brambles when he hears the bird let out a warning cry. The floods are coming. He abandons the plan and pushes through the brambles, the thorns painfully tugging at his fur. He races forward, leaping over fallen trees as the bird soars overhead. He skids to a stop as their paws splash on the muddy bank of a small lake. The bird flies overhead and lands on the other shore, taking a moment to drink some water while it is temporarily safe. Sandy considers it's situation and, hearing the floods approach in the distance, realizes they dont have much time to act. He takes a deep breath and carefully slides into the lake. He dives down and glides forward through the water. The bird is only a couple feet away. He crouches on the lake floor, watching the bird. His lungs are burning but he cannot act now. Waiting. Waiting. The bird raises it's head and IT IS HIS TIME! He surges out of the water and slaps his paws down on the bird. It's wings flap desperately, trying to get away, but to no avail. He picks up the bird in his mouth and raises it high. They hear trumpets ring out and the flood that was just starting to lap at their heels receded.
