Porcupine Ridge i'm trying to wake up from this.

Penn hadn't realized how thirsty he was until he came across the stream. He slowed to a stop and licked his lips, then lowered his head to drink his fill. The water was frigid, but wonderful. He shivered from the chill it sent through his insides, enjoying how it revitalized him. He was just standing up straight again when he heard the words, I'm going to eat you. The Blackthorn froze then, peering slowly around. He couldn't see anyone from his vantage point, but his mind went immediately to mountain lions. Was he being hunted?

His nerves were immediately on fire at the thought. At first, it was fear, but then he morphed it into anger. How dare someone try to hunt him? HE was the hunter, and a damn good one at that. His lips curled in a silent snarl as he turned towards the direction he thought the voice had come from and began to stalk forward. If he was going to be hunted, then he'd hunt it right back. See how the cat liked that.

It took him a few minutes, but eventually he crested the right ridge and spotted flashes of a brown pelt between the foliage. Penn grinned, noting that it appeared to have its back to him. Who was the better hunter now? With as much stealth as he could muster, the Blackthorn crept forward, then broke cover and ran at the beast. "Who's dinner now, ehhSHIIT!" his battle cry turned quickly into a cry of surprise as he caught sight of the face--a clearly wolfish face that was so very unlikely to be interested in eating him.

Penn attempted to skid to a stop, felt his legs tangle, and then face planted a couple of yards away from the other wolf. Social faux pas avoided! Sort of.