Ankyra Sound the thistle and the burr

i fudging love lycaon LMAO

it might have been fortuitous that ingram's face was buried in fistful of limb -- for he was unaware of the intemperate expressions that swept across his brother's muzzle with the consistency of a march shower - elation one moment, vexation the next. ingram hunched his shoulders down, his muzzle clutched by his inky limbs. despite lycaon's best attempts at playing mama goose, he was unmoved from his state of hysteria -- and steadfast as a fat seal claiming her sunspot, refused to budge despite his brother's prying.

at one point he opened his eyes and caught the wide chestnut stare of his brother's, and quickly looked away. lycaon's attempts to soothe him had as much balming powers as a caustic agent -- and he only dug his heels further in the sand as he considered how wretched and alone he felt. "no!" he blubbered into his folded paws at his brother's insistent question -- no he did not want to relive the shame and sadness that hounded him worse than a tick on a cur.

he must have been a glorious sight to behold, all shaken and stiff-furred -- a heap of teenage emotional angst and brewing isolation. he finally relented his mulish stand, obliging lycaon simply because if he didn't tell him, he'd have no one to bitch to later: "we were at the borders and there were some wolves that shouldn't be there.. and she.. she yelled at us as we chased them off and then wylla threw her out and she left." he had tried, for his brother's sake, for brevity -- and it was the simplest explanation he could offer before another sad sigh plagued his body.