Ankyra Sound the thistle and the burr

as sad as he was, he couldn't help the impulse to nip briefly at lycaon's arm as he sunk into the sand alongside him. sure, life sucked -- this sucked -- but having lycaon as his buoy and barrier from all of life's punches... well, ingram was glad for it. he was still forlorn -- still miserable -- but having an outlet for his feelings in the form of discourse was enough that he felt a weight shift from his tightened chest.

why was chusi yelling? ingram scrunched his brow to recall, and then answered: "oh.. those wolves were her friends, i think. she called us lunatics." the end of his sentence hung in an amused wheeze, and he collapsed to his side with his skull resting against lycaon's elbow. lycaon's admission that girls were the worst and that they, the two luschyon boys, were god's gift to them, caused ingram to stifle a smile. he looked up at lycaon's crinkled muzzle, studying the chip in his impressive tooth. it was a fierce war-wound, and he inspected it with mock solemnity. indeed, a most grave injury.

the contrition that passed over lycaon's countenance shortly after stirred a semblance of worry in ingram, and he abruptly shifted upright with sand decking half of his body and face. "what do you mean?" he pressed, squinching with brotherly skepticism.