Honeyed Pasture take off all the thoughts of what we've been

Phocion flinched as the other wolf ran his muzzle over Cortland's pelt, but he didn't move until he saw the Mayfair's ears pin back against his skull. A growl bubbling in his throat, the white priest launched himself through the tall grass, bursting onto the scene with teeth bared. It was then that he recognized the male, and went suddenly slack-jawed, posture falling--but only slightly.

"You," he blurted, eyes sharp on the other's face. "Uh, Engel, right?" He remembered the red man, to whom he'd once told the story of Fengari and Iliana. That didn't excuse him from whatever harm he had been inflicting upon Cortland, though, and his face grew dark again, staring daggers at Engel. "What were you doing to him?" Phocion demanded, shoving his muzzle in gesture over to Cortland.

He hadn't heard the words bubble out of his friend's lips. He would have been utterly gobsmacked if he had, but for now, Cortland was a silent russet shadow at his side.