Bramblepoint The shape of brat pop to come

He made contact, the points of his teeth sinking into Lasher's shoulder without breaking the skin. Peregrine grinned and backed away almost immediately, tail swaying through the brushwood as he enjoyed the taste of victory (literally, several of his friend's furs on his tongue). He took a few more steps backward out into a clearer area of the wood, then looked down to find dozens of burdocks fastened to his black pelt. His eyes closed slowly and he sighed.

"Wanna help me with these?" he inquired, quirking a brow at his companion.