Sun Mote Copse I stole this from a hockey card

When he returned from his border patrol, he was thoroughly tired out. The heat and humidity of the afternoon had left him panting, almost sweltering in his coat, with his dorsal stripe attracting the majority of the heat and sending it searing down his spine. He flicked away flies lazily with hia tail as he moseyed languidly back to the Rendez-vous site to check in and see who was around- and finding nothing but some leftover fluff from a rabbit one of them must've eaten, he left, and headed toward the river lining their Eastern border. 

Initially, he'd gone just for a drink, but once he realized how fresh and cool the water was, he waded in until the water came up to his knees, and then he slowly sank down to lay on the smoothe pebbles slick with algae, allowing the water to flow over his back. He sighed, as though in rapture, finally relieved from the heat of the sweltering afternoon sun.

In the distance, he heard a low, soft rumble which made him prick his ears and utter a soft growl in return. He remembered hearing something like that sound the day the landslide had happened, and it sparked a memory in his mind, having seen Sugar Glider get bowled over by a wave of water from the river. He frowned and stared up at the distant peaks, and realized that there were dark and ominous clouds beginning to move in- and that those were responsible for the rumble, not the mountains. He sighed, and relaxed into the water a bit more deeply, closing his eyes.

'bout time we had another thread!

It seemed she was a few steps ahead of her son- having gone to the river to soak her limbs, and help them heal from the puncture wounds she had up and down her beautiful legs from her growing children. They seemed to be more content with the gifts brought for them to devour and play with these days though, so all that remained along her long, lissome legs were wounds which had for the most part healed over. She'd withdrawn from the water and had settled on the shore to lick her limbs dry when her son appeared, sinking into the water. Overhead, a distant rumble of thunder caused her son to tense. She assumed he hadn't seen her yet, and took advantage of that fact. She picked up a small pebble from the ground near her, and tossed it- making it drop with a soft plonk into the water near his flank.

He had his misgivings about the mountains- and had more or less avoided them since the landslide. Of course- it wasn't like he'd travelled much regardless, but he felt intimidated by them nonetheless. There was always the chance that they might shift and groan and slough off another rocky shoulder, and maybe next time, it would be flung down the mountain far enough that it would cross the river, and rumble into their pack's territory. In fact, he thought he'd heard his mother talking about an avalanche that had happened the year he was born, and-

plonk

He practically levitated out of the water in surprise- yelping in surprise as he hit his apex before gravity hauled his body back down and into the water with a loud splash. He scurried to get his feet underneath himself, and cast an accusatory look at the water behind him- only to find said glance drawn to a golden figure on the bank of the river, looking 100% guilty and proud of it. "Jeepus grapes, Ma," He complained, "You scared the bajeezus outa me." He said. He finally caught his balance, and waded to the bank where he paused, glared/grinned down at his mother as a brief warning, and unceremoniously shook out as much water as he could, all over his gloating mother.

Her prank had the desired effect and more- and she delighted in seeing her son eject himself from the river with the gusto of a breaching whale, only to crash back into the water a moment later. Her eyes shone with mirth as she stifled a giggle, knowing it would only piss him off, but she grinned unabashedly at him when he realized that she was behind the entire scare. She tilted her muzzle up proudly for a moment. "I didn't think I raised such an afraidy cat," She said, sticking her tongue out at him as he approached. She hadn't moved from her spot- but as soon as she caught on to what he was going to do, it was too late. "Nonono don't you-"

She flattened her ears and cringed as her son showered her with water as he shook his pelt out. Once he finished, she gave him a glare and stood up, shaking the water off her own pelt, though she didn't create nearly the spray that her son had. "You little shit," She hissed, turning her back on him and plonking her hindquarters down indignantly, so she could begin preening her fur. She kept him in her peripheral vision- but wasn't prepared to yield any more of her time for him until he apologized.

Bronco beamed for a moment, seeing his mother seethe and recoil, splattered with water and a couple bits of algae that had seeped into his fur from the rocks he'd been laying on. He knew how proud and vain his mother was, and knew that this was the perfect method of getting her back for frightening him like that- but he'd forgotten just how bad of a sport she could be. She turned away from him in a huff, and pretended to ignore him, which simply served as kindling for the boy who wasn't about to let his mother mope. 

"Awwww, c'maaaahn," He taunted, prancing around so that he could face her- even though she continued to keep her gaze more or less centered on herself, and the fur she sought to clean. He dipped down into a playbow. "Did you start somethin' you couldn't finish?" He challenged, his tail tip lolling from side to side above the arch in his back.

Bronco looked ridiculous, with his fur spiked out in all directions...But there was something she had to adore about that look- something about the gleam of playful arrogance in warm, bourbon eyes; something that reminded her of @Colt RIP. She paused for a moment, unable to look at her son not out of stubbornness but simply because she knew if she did, another wave of grief would hit. And while time had passed, and so many wonderful things had come into her life, to steer her away from her loss- she was still reminded of the love she'd lost whenever her son stepped into the shadow his father had left behind. 

But while he was a sad reminder of the love she'd lost, he was also a warm reminder of the love she'd had- and of the legacy it had left behind in the form of two beautiful children. So when she was egged on, she softened- though only slightly. 

"Remember, Bronco," She said softly, setting down the limb she'd been grooming. "I brought you into this world- so I can certainly finish you," She cackled. Suddenly, her gaze snapped to his handsome, proud face and with a savage grin, she snapped her jaws once and charged her son, taking advantage of his hubris to thrust her muzzle into the wet fur of his neck and grab a firm hold of him by the loose skin just behind his ear.

His Mom looked something like a cat, grooming herself that way, and he was prepared to make a snarky comment about her resembling a cougar (which would likely be received horribly, as he knew she would interpret it as a comment on her appearance as well as her age) but he wouldn't get the chance. He pricked his ears to catch her words, which were spoken with surprising tenderness- and he realized only a moment too late that he should've known better than to challenge his mother. He'd gotten too close, and had pushed her buttons. 

He tried to recoil and instinctively tucked his tail as he tried to scoot backwards but his mother hit him with the full force of an axe lodging itself deep into a stump, and she caught him by the very tender spot on the side of his neck. He snapped his jaws in the air- and tried to wrestle himself from her grasp, but with her bite so close to his face, there was no way he could  retaliate. And the more he twisted and turned in her grasp, the more she bit down, pushing her weight against his and forcing him- yelpling and whining- into submission. It was a move she hadn't used against him before- and he was left dumbstruck at its deft, immediate success.

Her son was an adult now- and an aspiring guardian, though she had begun to notice how much more time he was devoting to the kids, rather than training to become a mercenary. She thought perhaps that he'd gone soft- and needed a reminder of how to fight, though she had used a fairly dirty move on him. He snapped and clacked his jaws together, but she simply clenched her jaws tighter with every movement he made and as he pulled back, she pressed forward, until she had him down so that his chin touched the ground. He whimpered and clearly showed submission- but she knew he could do better than that. 

She growled, and released her grip- but only long enough to grab her son by the scruff, but high enough on his neck that she had him in a grip just behind the base of his skull- another grip with which she would be safe from retaliation, as long as she kept her legs out of his reach...Which, of course, she did. She wasn't going to take it easy on him. She stradled his shoulders and growled into his fur, pushing down on the back of his neck to see if he would at least try and fight back.

He drew in a breath as she released him, finally, and had expected her to simply gloat with her victory but before he could pull away she grabbed him again- this time grabbing him at his poll, where he felt her fangs dig into the tender crevice where his skull tapered into his spine. It made him feel almost sick to his stomach to feel the pinch of teeth against bone, and his jaw dropped open- only to be forced shut as his mother pressed down, forcing his mouth to close. He whined as she stepped one foot over his shoulders, gaining even more ground on him- and his voice rose into a pained, helpless screech for a moment. 

"Maaarr, Stahp," He snarled through clenched teeth, unable to do much else as she pinned him down. He was able to move his hindquarters, but failed to see what good that could do. This lesson had gone too far too fast. "Fuckaff," He growled, baring teeth that were useless to him, so long as she held him in that position. His growl amplified into an enraged screech when she didn't immediately comply. F'kaaaff!"

This was the son she had raised and trained? She had spent so much of her time teaching him to spar, and knew that Towhee had done the same- but this was the end result? One sneaky move and she had him giving in, and another hold pinned him to the ground and made him shriek like a rabbit caught in a snare. She didn't care if his voice was heard by others- the family was well-known for being excruciatingly loud and vocal anyway, so any others within earshot would likely have simply passed this off as just another screaming match between mother and son. So she figured, anyway. She failed to realize how earnestly Bronco wished her to stop. She was a competitive creature, with an iron stomach- and she didn't like wimps. 

"Fight." She growled into his fur, and clenched her jaws with two short, but nevertheless brutal pulses in order to spur him into some kind of action. It was now a battle of wills- and she needed him to know what it felt like, being pushed beyond the limit of simply giving in, and into the realm of what it was like to have to fight for his life.

Pain and frustration shifted into fear and anger as his mother refused to let him up- and he felt horribly betrayed by the fact that she was treating him this way just because he'd shaked the water out of his pelt at her. This was going way beyond the playful boundaries which were his comfort zone; the stronghold she had on the back of his neck was horrifyingly painful, and she only made matters worse when she clenched her jaws twice, causing him to shriek the first time- and nearly lose consciousness the second time. It sent an icy cold feeling through his body that rippled down his spine and through his legs like an electric shock. If she bit him much harder, she could paralyze him. And in that moment, simply because she could, her fierceness implied that she would.

He flopped and floundered with his feet, though he wasn't able to do much and he felt his strength sapping as black dots clouded his vision. But panic surged through him, injecting adrenaline through his veins which prompted him to strike out wildly with his front legs and buck and twist his hips as he sought to wrench himself from her grasp. Stamping down with both front feet, he managed to use his waning strength to push his head up off the ground- lifting his mother's weight with him- and when his shaking legs gave out, he twisted himself to his side and felt a sudden release of pressure as he fell onto his shoulder. With both front legs, he struck out at his mother's nearest foreleg, hoping to shove her off balance so he might have a chance to get away.

She felt his muscles quake in her jaws, and knew she'd awakened something within him that would goad him into battle. At least he had something left of instinct inside him- as he began to writhe and flail, making it harder and harder for her to maintain her hold on his scruff. She was surprised and impressed when her son suddenly pitted his brute strength against her own- and managed to push back enough to lift his chest and head up off the ground. He was now strong enough that he could not only bear the weight of another wolf, but do so under duress as well. She felt a pang of pride for a moment- and in that moment, she lost her grip on her son as he fell back to the ground. 

It was a smart move- and he was able to both free himself from the grip she had on the back of his neck, and cause her to stumble as he kicked one of her front legs out from under her...But in the end, this served only to bring the two of them closer- and with her son now laying on his side, she was afforded the opportunity to finish a fairly disappointing lesson in strongholds. Without hesitation, as she felt her stance slide, she followed her own downward momentum and grabbed her son by his exposed jugular.

His freedom lasted but a moment- and before he could blink, his air supply was cut off. Not just restricted, but completely cut off. An image flashed into his mind of a wolf with dark fur and hazel eyes widened in fear, his jaws opening and clenching as he fought for air. This was him, now, with the clench of a vice at his neck. He lost touch with the fact that this was his mother who held him, and instead he simply saw himself...Such a wretch he'd been, inflicting such horrifying terror upon another wolf, who thought themself fit to perish in his grasp. And now here he was, strangling himself with panic and shock that made him spasm for a few moments, before he went limp.

She released her grip on him only a few seconds after she'd grabbed him by the throat. Had she intended to kill him, she would have held on much longer- but of course, she wasn't going to murder her own son. She gave his side a rough nudge to stimulate breathing, and sat down for a moment, waiting for him to tune back in.

His lungs pulled in air the moment his throat was released, though it took him some time to inhale enough oxygen to stimulate full consciousness again. Like a newborn pup gasping for their first taste of air, his breaths came in short, huffing pants until he was aware enough of his own existance to lick his lips, focus his wide-eyed stare, and lift his head. The confusion subsided slowly, as a fog might lift lazily in the morning, until he clapped eyes on his mother, sitting there demure and casual, watching as he came back to consciousness. He stared back at her for a moment until he remembered; he hadn't been biting his own neck, she had.

Bronco flattened himself against the ground in submission, desperate to avoid any more of this cruel and unusual punishment. He lost control of his bladder and trembled in the wake of shame that followed as he lay in a growing puddle of urine.

She thought he might make a joke, as soon as he was a bit more conscious, figuring he'd immediately recover and forgive her for pushing him to the brink of losing consciousness. She still felt her lesson was important- and that it was good for him to know what it felt like, to be in a fight that could potentially cost him his life...And she also felt that he had failed to protect himself, which was a disappointment. So she was surprised when he gazed at her for a moment, and as soon as the spark of recognition came into those eyes- he went limp yet again, shuddered, and pissed himself. 

"Oh, Bronco," She said, her tone a mix of pity and disappointment that she caught only a moment after she'd spoken. She immediately regretted it, and sighed, relaxing so that he might not fear her so much. She was his mother- this had just been a serious spar, nothing more..."Let's get you back into the river and get you cleaned up," She said softly, unaware of how patronizing she may have sounded as she reached out to give him a nudge.

He could feel how ashamed she was of him, and it burned in his soul creating a shockwave of grief and pain through him that mirrored the sensation he'd felt earlier, when his mother had grabbed him by the back of the neck. She didn't apologize; she merely patronized him, and reached out to touch him with care. Now? After nearly killing him and making him so petrified that he'd pissed himself? Now she was going to be gentle with him? No. He wouldn't allow her that satisfaction.

He snapped at her, his teeth clacking together in the air- she'd managed to pull back just quickly enough to avoid being bitten, and he realized yet again that he'd failed. Using the breadth of space he'd created, he scrambled to his feet and bolted, slipping slightly at first in the muddy dirt beneath his feet, and dashed off into the Copse, blundering blindly through the undergrowth to stow himself away in his old den, far away from the Rendez-vous site and everyone else.

Ouf. This got way darker than I'd anticipated. Sorry b'ys, Niamh is a monster.

She whipped her muzzle out of his reach when he snapped at her, and gritted her teeth in an offended grimace. He'd really try to snap at her now, after giving up so easily in their spar? She watched him scramble and scuttle off, having not bothered to even clean himself before he sped off to go and isolate himself wherever it was he was going. She shook her head and as if on cue, the clouds that had uttered a gentle threat earlier, rolled in front of the sun, casting shadow over the Copse. She gazed into the woodlands where her son had disappeared, and as the thunder returned, and a soft rain began to fall, she sighed. In the falling patter of rain, she turned to walk back into the woodlands, to find her family and take solace in the innocence and budding potential of the newest generation of children she had birthed. She'd failed Bronco...Horribly. But maybe she would do better with these children.