Silvertip Mountain meet the fockers

In which Grayday throws himself a pity party

Yes, that's definitely a bruise, he thought sourly, indulging in a languid stretch before shaking the dirt from his coat. The shake was more to disguide the irritated bristling along his back as he forced himself to let it go, Day. He has more than the right to be worried. Things have gone very badly, here.

"As you say, Ezekiel," he said with a respectful dip of his head. With his mantra still playing in his mind (They don't know you. It's only natural.), he was beginning to feel properly chatisized. His tail dropped a bit as he turned to stalk off, not really wanting to inquire further about getting his cheek cleaned to the bristly zeta. He almost walked straight into @Steady, who had undoubtedly seen the whole thing.

Grayday's mood dropped further south, and he took a deep breath before speaking. "It won't happen again," he said solemnly, touching his nose to the alpha's paw. He hoped he would get away without more unpleasantness, but from what he knew of the alpha, that didn't seem very likely.