Bramblepoint Bird of may, sitting by the bay

The pain reminded Foster he didn’t even like berries to begin with, and to seek any out would’ve ended with his stomach bubbling for days. Something about fruit tended his flip his insides in the wrong way, which is why he often snubbed the more accessible snack, even when he was starved for a pinch of food. And here it had managed to fuck him without even reaching his stomach, right in his cheek and paw.

The male limped along, a thorn lodged in the pad of his front right paw, and another conveniently snug in the same side’s cheek. Swiping them together just tended to stir a hot streak of pain, so after the first twenty minutes Foster had given up that venture and accepted his fate as a cripple for the time being.

Literally stumbling up upon the slight figure of brown and white—which briefly gave him a heart attack, mistaking her for a moment as some kind of bear cub, Foster quickly found his wits when he realized it was another wolf. “HEY, YOU!” He called out rather abruptly, probably sounding more forceful than he intended as he hurriedly hopped in her direction.