Otter Creek I down a coffee, grab my axe and then I'm out

Clay's posture instantly snapped into that of a ball at the man's booming voice and flash of teeth. He could of sworn a speck of drool landed on his cheek, or maybe it was just the sweat perspiring under his fur in fear. Either way— he was scared. Scared of this monster, of his words, of his appearence, of his voice.

So instantly, pathetically, instinctively, the small boy rolled onto his back, his tail tucked up between his legs to cover himself as a warbled whine sounded from his throat. He knew this shadow could kill him, would kill him. But Clay wasn't sure what to do. Would the beast-Vengenace, take pity on him? Maybe if he was submissive enough he wouldn't hurt him. Or, you know, NOT kill him where he laid.

Speak properly? Clay didn't know if he could. He tried before, but even then it didn't please the warlord. He was afraid, scared that he couldn't trust his voice. But if he didn't speak would he be killed? He licked his lips in fear, his nose flaring and dribbling. "I... I'm sorry Sir—I mean—Vengeance....Warlord, Sir," The boy didn't know what to address him as. Sir? Vengeance? Warlord?

"I'm lost. Please take me with yo—" Clay paused, surprised at the intrusive thought that glued itself to the front of his brain and slid past his lips without thought. Go along with him? With this monster? He was scared, he really didn't want to go!

But he was lost, he was hungry, he was cold...and he wasn't sure he wanted to go back home. To Easthollow. To his family. He swallowed. No. He wouldn't go back. Not with how they treated him.  "Take me to Nightwalkers!"