Wild Berry Meadow Spring time!

Cicero's heart thrummed in his chest and the fear was beginning to spread further and further as the male followed him. Shit. Everything he said and did was a trigger — continuing to follow made it clear to Cicero that he was getting a sick sense of satisfaction from Cicero's fear. I want you to keep running echoed this behaviour and the way he must feel perfectly.

But the worst was when he said, You think you can just end a conversation without saying good bye. Cicero halted in his tracks, realising that he wasn't going to be able to flee away (though he might've been able to, had he been more dedicated to this approach; but he was running in a different direction than his pack, so where was he going to run to?).

There were only two options left; fighting or acceptance.

Tail was tucked tightly between hind legs as he stared at the male, torn. Then he realised that acceptance was worse than losing, for it meant that he allowed the fear to win; he would just let anything be taken from him if he accepted it himself, because he was too afraid to have it taken by force if he did not.

Then he parted his teeth in a snarl and lunged at the male. He was not afraid of pain, and while it was pure fear that drove his actions, he intended to grab whatever he could if the male would not move out of his way and take the hints he had been dropping.