Emberwood Well I think that there's a problem here

Silence fell in upon the forest after a high-pitched shriek. Big, fluffy snowflakes drifted down through the bare tree branches, coating the earth in a fine layer of white, muffling the echo there might've been from the young wolf's scream. Not even the wind lifted to stir the branches or shift the snow- the silence haunted him, made him all the more aware of just how pathetic he'd sounded.

He'd found a log that barely covered a small burrow and when he'd traipsed close enough to check it out, the porcupine inside turned its back and smacked him with its tail. It caught him in the chest, jabbing quills into his cheek, shoulder and leg. He stumbled backwards and sat in the snow, uttering a high, soft, frustrated trill as he worked his jaw in the wake of it all. 

He grabbed at a couple of the quills stuck into his shoulder and ripped them out. He screamed again; it hurt much more than he'd expected, and there were still so many quills left. Feeling sour and sorry for himself at the same time, he huddled against a tree, and began to pluck the quills out of his skin, one by one.