Flycatcher Downs sweet little baby in a world full of pain

He had expected the other to certainly not.... be this.

He laid on top of the wolf—weird in color and sobbing his eyes out in front of him. Nightwalker was a far away term the boy would use to describe this stranger. He wasn't dark in color, nor was he currently spitting vulgar words trying to rip the Easthollians throat out.

Perhaps Clay had made a slight error.

He slowly backed off of the stranger, his eerie gaze trained on the white male till he followed the others gaze to a... what was that? A deceased bird? Clay scoffed at the sight, and turned back to face the stranger. "What the hell is wrong with you?"