Bearclaw Valley black eye

Scowling, Raziel muttered curses and profanities under his breath as he savagely kicked some of the innocent grass that bordered Bearclaw Valley. Gods forbid...what if they banged right after they made up? The images that formed in his head was enough to nearly make him literally throw up onto the borders he had just reinforced. Not that it would be a bad thing, the scent of puke could serve as a scent marker too, probably ward off even more uninvited predators around. 

Black leathery nostrils flared as he inhaled the familiar scent of....Creyr. Immediately, a billion, trillion questions raced across his mind, most of them regarding the health of his brother and of his children but he withheld the urge to speak for a moment. Allowing them to simply linger on his tongue as Raziel turned around, fierce teal eyes landing on the greyscale form of his friend. Or was she his friend?

"Creyr," he simply stated, striding over to her and reached out, hoping to touch her cheek affectionately with his nose. The Roman would refrain from asking the obvious questions for now.