Lost Creek Hollow i'm not, what you think you can see

sir?

terance turned to see the face of treason in the soft moonlight that flooded down through the branches overhead. he studied her, green eyes searching her features, resting on her sharp pair of blue iris'. 

"don't sir, me," he quipped, a scowl pressed to his features, "i'm not 8 years old." it was in friendly jest, but his tone lacked the playful edge to suggest such. instead, it came out flat. if he noticed, he didn't comment on it. instead, the dark alpha pushed himself up into a sitting position upon the boulder, ignoring the small pang he felt in his shoulder. it did not matter right now. 

he sat, gaze resting again on the creek as it murmured below them. if you were quiet enough, creative enough, maybe even insane enough, you could probably make out words. terance didn't hear much. despite the reassuring feeling that prayer was supposed to bring you-- a sense of peace and perhaps the idea that everything was okay-- terance felt very little. but so far, the events transpired in the previous days had not quite broken him. he was functioning well enough.

his tail flicked once, a silent offering that treason could join him if she had something to say to him.