Oak Tree Bend I was drunk and it didn't mean a thing

Muhmuhmuh, babbled Corsair at an early spring bee as it lazily hovered over a bush mere feet from the den's entrance. The boy was flat on his back, limbs splayed every which way, with his head turned toward the bumbling insect. The bee said nothing in response. Typically, the wolves in his life responded when he made noise, and whether or not what they said was comprehensible, Corsair had quickly come to depend on that attention. The bee blithely ignored him, and that made the Donata's face scrunch up.

What a rude creature.

Intent on showing it who was boss, Corsair rolled slowly onto his side and spoke again, a louder reiteration of, muhMUHMUH, that once more failed to stir a reaction. The pup's temper welled and he slapped first his forepaws and then his tail on the ground before rising to his feet. Oh, he'd show that bee. Corsair was one of the most important pups in the world, as far as he was concerned—as far as he could be concerned about anything, in fact—and that bee was gonna listen to him, damnit.

MUHMUH, he veritably screeched as he lifted a paw and swatted at it. His foot met the ground with the unfortunate bee trapped beneath it, and within seconds he was squealing and sobbing as the pain and shock of being stung for the first time registered, its source somewhere in the tender skin between his toes.

hit the ground running, leave 'em in the dust

In the span of a second, Serach was hovering over him, radiating concern. Corsair could sense it even if he couldn't yet understand it, and the fact of his father's worry only made the situation seem worse than it was. If Serach was worried, then it had to be something major, right? Corsair had no capacity for empathizing with the new father's nerves, which were surely high ever since the birth of his very first litter. The pain of the sting had already faded and the shock was wearing off, the press of Serach's tongue between his ears a soothing distraction, but it was the worry he sensed from the man that kept Corsair blubbering for a while longer.

Ba-aah-aaaduh, he sniffled as he lifted his paw and cradled it close momentarily. Someday, he would realize how uncool it was to be such a big baby about it, but for now his understanding was limited to that hurt and daddy, pay attention to me, and combining the two seemed to produce the desired effect. Already he was forgetting about the sting, although he would never forget to be wary of striped insects in the future.

He flopped onto his side, sniffing heavily as he rested the top of his head somewhere in the vicinity of Serach's paw and stared up at his sire through one navy eye. Humpf, he intoned, which of course was a very philosophical remark about the nature of bees. The crying had run its course, the tears were drying on his fluffy cheeks, and he was starting to feel better. If Serach looked very closely at his son's paw or the ground where it had been, he might discover a smush of black and yellow and the tiny barb still nestled in the soft skin of the pup's inner toes.

only run with those we can trust

Though he struggled briefly against his father's strength, Corsair was unable to overcome it and was pushed easily onto his back. Even for such a young thing, he knew this to be a compromising position, and he didn't really like it. Nevertheless, when his father's tongue soothed the sore spot on his tongue, he relaxed. His head sank back into his crown nearly touched the grass and he sighed gently through his nose. The world wasn't coming to an abrupt end after all.

At some point, Serach did manage to dislodge the stinger. It came out with a strange pulling sensation that made Corsair flex his toes and look up at the white wolf across his narrow little chest. "Bah!" he admonished Serach as he attempted to pull his paw away and hide it from view. Whatever that was, it hadn't felt as nice as dad's tongue on his paw pad. The stinger itself was gone, though, and with it went any hint of pain that he had been feeling prior to its removal.

Feeling rather invigorated, Corsair rolled back onto his belly, unwittingly whipping his father's chest with the strong strokes of his thin tail, and bounded to his feet. The whole episode with the bee was forgotten, though it would remain in his subconscious memory to beward of yellow and black insects, and he was ready to play again. With a muffled war cry, the boy launched himself at Serach's paw, intent on gnawing it with his sharp little teeth.

In spite of his very best efforts, Corsair didn't get more than a mouthful of Serach's paw before his much larger father reacted. First came the curl of blackened lips, drawing Corsair's attention to a sudden flash of white that sent an instinctual thrill of fear and uncertainty through him. He flattened himself almost immediately in response to that great instinct, pressing his ears back expertly and curling his whippish tail in under himself to appease the upset wolf above him. This brief fear was only a natural part of their life, though, and didn't extend to Serach himself. Corsair would hardly remember it in mere moments.

Indeed, when Serach corrected his expression and gave his son's head a gentle swipe of the paw, the cub blinked and giggled and fell over from the force of it, only to right himself in a wriggle of excitement. His tail whipped to and fro as he found his footing and half-turned to see his father bowed forward in an undeniable invitation to play. He could hardly contain himself! He panted loudly as he clumsily mimicked the motion, then wasted no more time.

His charge was more of a slow bumble in the eyes of any adult, but from Corsair's perspective, it was the fastest he had ever moved. He ducked and weaved around imaginary foes that sought to protect Serach from him, in reality bobbing here and there in a klutzy display of childish wonderment, and when he reached his sire's paw, he imagined that the trip-and-stumble attempt at a lunge was really a graceful pounce.