Blackfeather Woods you and me and the devil makes three

"You are a fool." 
To say the boy was not phased by the maniacal words of the other would be true. He was one raised in darkness and shadow, and learnt what death was at an early age. He had watched his mother bury her fangs in those that came to the border more than once, watched them bleed and fade beneath the fangs of the dark wraith made life. Thus the words were said without fear, only the ice that was his voice. And he was, to come and spew such nonsense at the borders marked by blood and by corpses.

The stranger interested the boy in a way that others had not before, the creature of fluid darkness. Of words of monsters and darkness and night, spoke he. And yet, the violence that were his words were a challenge. To the brotherhood, to the assassins and priests and treacherous spies that lived beneath the canopy alive with Ravens and crows. And thus the boys lips peeled back slowly in a silent snarl, a warning. Pay homage, or leave. And as the male had hardly shown any of the first kind, the boy was fully prepared to launch his much small frame at the other, for consequences now did not worry him.

the boy balanced on a precipice, now; the slightest more instigation from the male would have the Raven move smoothly into movement, fully prepared to chase the male from their borders.