Bearclaw Valley saying you're to blame

They stand at the Valley's border, one grey-haired and one blond, both bruised and bleeding. Taylor, in his characteristically unfocused and neurotic way, does not think of the possiblity that he could take Toad to some clandestine alleyway and beat him to death there. He's too busy with grappling his brain.
The inside of him is not worth describing in detail. It is dark and windy and violent, like standing just under a helicopter.
He tips his head back and howls, his Adam's apple dipping low then rising. His eyes search the forested border for any signs of @Evien. Already, he can imagine his green eyes from fifty paces away, his slight limp. Already, he can imagine him scolding the both of them: what was the point of that, you guys are such dumbasses, and Taylor would've laughed, if he could've.
Taking a breath, he smooths out some of the rougher edges. They sit in that post-fight silence, and the only sound is the rasp of their tongues against skin.