Moonspear dealing with danger

Five months old — nearly six — he still had too much leg to handle. This was why he had no business here; he could not even escape his benevolent aunt, so how could he expect to escape all the evils of the world? Every year, from every corner of the wilds, there came rumors of children missing, stolen, and killed. Alya had even been called to search for some of these. Alya had once been a child with legs too long and a heart too full of adventure.

It'd gotten Dash killed. It could have been both of them just as easily.

Alya gave chase, heavy paws thudding after her nephew's whip-like figure. Apart from that, the only sounds from her were her breathing, and the crash of foliage as they broke through it. She was careful to keep some distance between them, unwilling to pounce before they were somewhere soft and flat enough to cushion the blow. When that moment came, however, she was quick to power forward, her teeth reaching out to bruise — but not harm — Altair's flanks, paws reaching to grab, body barreling forward to bowl him over.

If he escaped her, then perhaps this was a lesson he did not need to learn. Perhaps it was proof he was ready for an excursion.