Blackfoot Forest What Did You Mean When You Said It's Destructive

For just one moment—one peaceful, quiet, blissful moment—there was silence, the ringing in his ears interrupted only by the sound of his own breathing. But like most things in his life, it didn’t last. The scent of someone nearby filled his nose, and with it, the uneven fall of footsteps.
 
He huffed and hurried to push himself upright, his movements unsteady, his front right leg refusing to cooperate. The back of his head collided with the low hanging branches and pine needles above, and his back hit bark, the wooden grooves cold and rough against his fur.
 
Trapped.
 
He felt really fucking trapped, just then.
 
He growled, his ears rolled back and his red eyes narrowed into slits, his hackles raised and bristling from where he awkwardly stooped beneath the tree.
 
“Nothing.” Nothing had happened to him. He didn’t let things happen to him. It was all the other wolf’s damn fault anyway.
 
And then, with a sneer on his face, his upper lip curled back and rows of white teeth on display, his chin jutted forward and up—
 
“Fuck off.”