Twisted Slough An isle of flightless birds

Most of the birds got out of the way quickly, and when a couple started to take flight the rest attempted — many of which didn't know which way held danger. So most of the fluttering, squalling, and chaos was contained to the geese stuck in a terrestrial half-sleep. They blundered in to one another with wings halfway ready, or thwacked one another (and the bludgeoning boy) with their kite-like wings outstretched. He didn't think to be more aggressive with them. Running through the thick of it caused enough of an uproar to appease Tywyll, until the majority of the flock had taken to the air or escaped to a safe distance, where they would touch down. He was left standing in the middle of the slough, sopping wet and smelling distinctly like the fresh droppings of all those fowl.

Ignorant to his company, Tywyll was huffing and puffing and trying to find another avenue of attack (pirouetting and watching as the geese plopped down in the muck nearby), and it was during this hasty observation that he spotted the stranger. They didn't seem keen on hiding themselves; if anything, they were watching the show and (he assumed) judging his form. The boy breathed sharply out of his nose to clear the passage of gunk (ew) and then sniffled, the cold making his snout drip just a little. The attention of another wolf wasn't the most important thing to the antisocial Blackthorn, but his attention span was limited and without the geese to play with, the stranger would do for some entertainment. He chose to approach. His strides were far from bold; in fact, the November air was a blustery sort, and he looked like he was ready to  be blown over just like the geese.

The boy yipped a hello, and stopped in his tracks. Mum and Dad would probably be pretty happy to see at least one of their kids didn't run headlong in to potential danger (just geese).