Bramblepoint An apple a day

Rodyn wound his way through a thicket full of trees. The early morning son painting the tapestry of color in shades of gentle orange. His tail waved happily behind him as he maneuvered through. His paw steps light and carefree. This was what home had been like. And though he enjoyed the mountains around. There was nothing quite like forest for the youth. 

He kept away from the brambles in the thicket. Knowing all to intimately what they could do to a pelt and your skin. It was most unbecoming. He stopped a moment to watch as a bee lazily lapped at some of the fruit that had fallen. His ears tweaked forward and his gentle gaze searching, searing, enjoying.