Silvertip Mountain Let's trade shoes, just to see what it'd be like

His stumbling steps were accompanied by a nip to his rear end. Mason’s light body flinched away from the further pain and his other three legs crumpled remorsefully underneath him. Soft white fur ricocheted with the filthy, hard ground. Without further thought for his anger, Mason gave in to self-pity. He curled his poorly leg under his muzzle and tucked his tail beneath himself. The young boy cowered low to the ground, ears flat against his skull in doubt and mild fear, waiting to see if another blow would come at him.


He couldn’t say anything, and instead kept his eyes fixed on his wound, which was still oozing blood, listening for warning signs that the beast behind him was going to attack again.