Blackfeather Woods i am a hoarder of worlds

For the moment in which he'd been pinned, a memory arose that sent him back to a previous meeting not with Cicero, but his brother. The humiliation still burned within his chest, dulled only slightly by time. Extinguished had it been, though, when he'd felt the grip around his scruff loosen. It'd been just enough for him to tear away with hardly a flinch, only to lead into a wince once he'd felt a throbbing in his lower back and hips from his fall. Pushing past it, he'd brought himself fully to his feet and spun around, feeling his body lurch back towards the other male.

Again, he would try to snag hold of the wolf's scruff—or any of the surrounding area—with the intent to force his face into the dirt.