For Kevin Hill:
Otter looked around to check he was alone before pulling out his new Bowie knife. The dealer had given him a great deal on the blade. He smiled as the sun reflected off the cool steel. A warm feeling enveloped him as he thought of using the weapon on Jimmy the Fox.
Nobody messed with the Mustelidae Nostra.
Footsteps nearby, the sound of a camera shutter. Cooing voices.
For now, his cover broken, he slipped back into endearing mode and splashed water at the passersby.
Beneath the surface of the muddy water the knife sunk to the sandy bed.