Walking Is Like Flying, Right?

He would faintly spot a sprinting fleck in the corner of his eye. He turned to see a larger brown wolf pelting through the grass and obstacles. Motif! He remembered his mother talk about some of the wolves she trained and worked with. Envy caught his emotions. He wanted to be like that, running freely with the wind. She leaped over and halted beside him, greeting and inquiring delicately. He looked up into her blazing amber gems, amazement in his own emeralds. Perhaps he had already found himself a role model.

"Hi Motif!" He greeted with an excited wag of his ebony dipped tail. "I'm learning to run, just like you."

He would swiftly get up upon his paws with ease, walking a few steps forward shakily. He would try to run but his try didn't spell success. He managed to cover a few feet before losing his balance and tripping over his blundering paws. He would look back to the chocolate female, an innocent look on his face. Why couldn't he run? Why was he struggling?