Arrow Lake Bring along a good strong umbrella capable of handling falling animals

Aure's stalking belly crawl awoke all sorts of primitive instincts in Dragomir's brain, hearkening back to the first of all wolves who hunted with his pack. Wolves with their bellies slung low were usually in pursuit of prey, so said this most ancient knowledge, and foolishly he did not realize that the prey was him. Drago's mimicry was immediate. He crouched in place, eyes going wide and ears quivering with anticipation above his brow. At this tender age, he couldn't contain his excitement or his energy enough to be any good at hunting. Maybe that was why cubs didn't typically get invited to join hunts. Huh.

He sprang prematurely for Aure, from the last trilling syllable of son, but she was quicker. Dragomir fell back with a shrill holler which morphed quickly into a giggled ma! as he leaped toward his mother's splayed feet and wrapped his jaws around her nearest dainty ankle. At about this time, Aure might realize that her son had sharp teeth and a strong little jaw; inhibition was slow learning for him, so he still bit harder than he meant to. He wasn't likely to do any significant damage at his age, but really it all depended on how his mother handled this play aggression. It wouldn't take much for him to secure his grip and unwittingly tear her flesh.