Sun Mote Copse I'm gonna be a mighty king so enemies - beware!

Oh thank freaking goodness, his teeny assailant came loose without too many wild gyrations of his head required. Aaahh, ahaha, ow, said Owen, still somewhat in shock as he half-reached a paw up toward his throbbing, tender nose before thinking better of it—what if that might merely aggravate it worse, after all? He gawped in wounded dejection at the little furball who’d attacked him; confusedly he felt both disappointed and as stunned as a deer in headlights. He’d thought they were getting along so well! Wasn’t he someone this little toothy beast looked up to and admired and respected?! What the hell—how could it all have gone so wrong, so fast, and without a single warning sign so far as Owen had spotted?

How could it possibly be that bitty baby brothers could indeed be just as bad or worse than sisters?!

As Owen stood back and struggled to process all this, of course, his new “friend” did not remain idle. As Owen stared in hurt bafflement at the wickedly wide toothy grin the younger boy offered up, he was too slow on the uptake to realize that although his now-held-safely-high brown-black nose was out of the stubby-legged predator’s reach, other body parts were definitely not, and the precocious youngster had already swiftly changed his target. Owen yelped several times and tried to half-leap, half-mince speedily back as if he was stepping on hot coals—No, no, not the toes not the toes!! he screeched but alas, it was already too late. He was still trying to be careful not to actually hurt the little guy though, even as he ineptly flailed and tried to shoo the pup back to a safe distance away; unfortunately for him that meant Owen was being rather less careful about his own person. He didn’t see the protruding branch until he backed his rump directly into it. With another, even higher-pitched screech he rocketed forward, his tender hindquarters and still-stinging nose conspiring for a moment to make him forget to be careful not to trample the younger and presumably more-fragile boy (though given Owen’s current theatrics, one could definitely be forgiven for suspecting the opposite).