Blackfeather Woods Back then, when I stupidly took pride

Alexander stood strong against the fox, confidence so plentiful in his tiny form that it was practically seeping from him. No matter which way the fox went, he’d meet it and stare it down, keeping the creature at bay. Several times it tried to lunge at him, but a flash of his little teeth, combined with the memory of what he’d done to its tail, had it skittering backwards. It was clear the vulpine was out for blood, and perhaps it would have gotten its wish, had the adult not intervened. The albino heard the woman before he saw her, his ears having swiveled about to pick up on the sound of her steps. Then there came the snarl, filling the boy with a strange feeling he could relate only as being close to excitement. It frightened the fox, sending it running off to wherever it’d originated from. The Inuit flashed his little teeth in its direction one last time before stepping forward and turning around to look at the dark wolf.
 
“Who are you?” Xan questioned, not allowing a single second to slip by. “Why’d you do that?” The child was an arrogant one, fearing next to nothing and thinking he was on top of it all. He was certain that he could have handled the situation all on his own, having been left unable to see the danger of the encounter. It was just a fox, after all. Though he didn’t really know what a fox was or what they could do, save for what he’d been told, he doubted it would have stood a chance against him. His mutation-filled gaze narrowed into a glare as he stared up at the elder’s face, his tail sticking straight out behind him. He didn’t recognize her arrival as a rescue, but rather, an interference.