She scowled as he reached the field, eying the bag already slung around his back. It’d be foolish to chase after him just because she had her eye on the bag… but, then again, she had wanted it, and it could certainly be useful. She settled her eye on one of the strange, sickly-colored… rocks, perhaps, but the word didn’t seem to fit; she’d never once think it was supposed to be a treat. She grabbed one, wrinkling her nose at the stickiness she felt between her fingers, and heft it to feel the weight before trying to lob it at the boy. What good is running if he should fall?