Bramblepoint in the woods somewhere

@Dash

The lack of growing fruit made the brambles seem sinister as they sat in the baking sun, daunting as ever. Their sharp thorns had already torn through his handsome golden fur and clung to the skin beneath, leaving him torn and cut in areas he had not been before. Though Sawyer found that the area reminded him somewhat of the Wild Wood of home. The trees had been thick and twisted; overhead they stood so full that it would block the sun on even the fiercest summer days. The undergrowth was a mixture of soft bushes and sharp twisting thorns. Weasels and voles thrived in the area and always provided a quick meal for the wolves who called the Wood their habitat.
 
Working his way through a particularly rough patch of brambles, the golden male shouldered the tangle aside and felt the sharp sting of the thorn against his ribs. Wincing a bit, he managed to find himself at the very edge of the wicked nettles and in a stretch that would be easier to travel. Breathing heavily, Sawyer turned his gaze back on the direction he had come and realized that he could not return that way again.