Porcupine Ridge One Step Closer To The Edge

Warbone?

He dipped his muzzle once, acquiescing to the name as he at once realized that he did not know this wolf from a more dire time in his life, but from the short time he had reigned and been at peace. His tail lashed as he watched the dark male crumble, lost within himself as Warbone had been, not four weeks prior. He sympathized, could relate, but he would not treat the man with pity. He would not coddle him or tiptoe. It was not what Zephyr needed.

Licking his lips, he realized he recalled the wolf's name, and he blinked his good eye in reservation of his own feelings about this situation. "You are not dead," he said, unable to account for if the man was "crazy" or not. "But you could be, if that is what you wish," he added, his spine prickling suddenly, his threat as blatant as his scarring. It was Zephyr's choice then, to decide if he truly wanted to die... or if he wanted to live.