Porcupine Ridge Just a ghost running scared

Anwyl was snapped suddenly out of his thoughts was a set of pearly whites nipped at the air in front of his nose. Play! That was something that Anwyl knew well. His brothers, all larger than him, used to wrestle with him. Anwyl never stood a chance against them, but they always let him win. He missed that about his family. How they were always there to lift him up, never put him down. Perhaps he could find a brother in some of his new pack mates.

The silver white male instantly dropped to the ground, his fluffy rump swishing side to side as he bounded from side to side playfully. He gnashed his teeth near Farstep's muzzle, forcing him back a little before jumping backwards. He turned in a little circle around the clearing before looking back to his acquaintance and barking at him, urging the older male to spar. It seemed like ages since he'd last played around like this. It was a great relief from the daily grind.