Bearclaw Valley We abandon one-another.

He wanted to get up, get away. The hurt spread across his chest and belly where he was ground in to the dirt, neck straining and limbs kicking even as the rival force found purchase looming over him. Glaucos wriggled and squeaked; whatever passed for childish snarls sounding more like the deflating of a whoopie-cushion than any sort of threat. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt! Get off!

The boy standing over him was older so he was bigger, and that mattered. Glaucos was destined to be as mountainous as his father and as horribly ursine as his mother, however in this stage of his life he wasn't anywhere near that. Slim was his physique, his flesh yielding to any strike that was bestowed upon it.

He managed to get his nose tipped-up enough to shout: GEDDOFF!!
—but what good would it do?