Sun Mote Copse musical chairs is turning into an adult drinking game.

Fenn's reasoning fell on deaf ears, as did Bronco's snarled words. Penn's focus now was fully on trying to make Bronco feel some sort of pain. Some sort of humiliation. He collided with the larger boy in the way a tidal wave crashes against a cliff--with force, but not really enough to move the stone. He snapped his jaws shut on what he'd hoped was going to be Bronco's face, but instead felt his teeth sink into the thick fur of his ruff. He dug them in, though. There was skin there and he could feel it. He gripped it viciously, refusing to let go.

Penn held tight even as Bronco surged into his chest, causing a woosh of air to let loose from his lungs. He breathed in hard through his nose with flared nostrils and as soon as he found his feet beneath him, he began to jerk his head with a snarl, trying to break skin, throw him to the ground, do something to teach him a lesson for being such a stupid, bullying brute.