Meadowlark Prairie In the number of times I punched with my fist

Broken and bloodied, the youngster ran away, his pride stripped from him, if he ever had any. He didn't care where he went, as long as it wasn't back to the beast or home. He did not wish to be confronted by his family. He was in no mode to be crowded. He would turn around and head back later.

Farther and farther he limped, blinded from sobbing. His body ached and his new wounds stung greatly. He felt like curling in a ball and sleeping for a long, long time. But something kept the creamy boy going. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was anger. Who knows?

The sand under his paws turned into the earth he was used to. The barren land transformed into a grassy environment. Leo's body cut through the tall grasses. He barely noticed. The voices were yapping once more. Kill her, they hissed. Look at what she did to you Leo. Make her pay. He growled at them, resulting to their whispers ceasing. "Leave me alone!", he yelled, "I hate you!" Why couldn't they leave him alone? These voices were tearing him apart.

Leo was to busy trying to block out the voices to notice the pale boy in front of him. He only acknowledged the fact when he bumped into his backside. Immediately, he jumped back, his breathing increasing and eyes widened. For a second he thought it was the beast, coming to beat him up some more, but this wolf was smaller, almost as small as him. And his pelt was a complete opposite color. Peridot perhaps? No, the scent was not female. The only other white pup he knew was...  "Xan?", he squeaked. He may be wrong. There was more snowy pups out there.