Sun Mote Copse sponsored by otters holding hands while they sleep.

Ahah! He'd bitten hard enough to cause his mother pain, and he held on as long as he could to her ankle, as she lifted it, before he let got and flopped to the ground. This meant, though, that he was free so he quickly ambled away from her so that she couldn't just grab him again- though it wasn't out of character for her to simply grab him by the ruff or the tail or by whatever she could grab and haul him back where she wanted him. For now, though, it seemed like he was actually being allowed to do what he wanted- and that was to investigate this new wolf-

Waitaminute.

She'd brought something. Something with feathers- which Bronco absolutely loved. His mother had had pretty feathers in the den which she'd considered to be decorations, but Bronco only assumed that they were toys. He generally got punished for playing with them, and eventually, he woke up one day and all the feathers were gone. He failed to make the connection to the fact that his mother had been the one to gather them up and dispose of them, and simply assumed that feathers did that. Sure, feathers could migrate. If coconuts could, why not feathers?

A play bow was something that Bronco understood fully- but he was far too preoccupied with the wing she'd brought. Still, it was there, close to her- and he wanted it. His tail waved, and he pounced forward a few steps before he grabbed onto it, sank into his own playbow, and growled back at his auntie, as though daring her to try and take it from him.