Wapun Meadow I of the storm

Overtime the words got louder and louder. Their voices raised, shaking around them and causing Clays own ears to jump back in reaction. He had never seen Valour so angry, so loud; Usually the boy was composed and soft spoken. A gentleman... But, this side was new to the Easthollian, and something about Valour's pained look and gritted teeth caused him to shy back with a pawstep.

It reminded him a bit of Vengeance.

Even more-so with the lip curl.

"Don't you DARE curl your lip at me!" Clay barked, cutting off Valour with his now raw throat. Tears had been spilled down his cheeks, wetting his fur and dribbling off his chin. Everything that Valour had said, had believed was correct. And in his error, Clay was only now noticing that perhaps he hadn't been the best.

His chest had once been hollow, dull—Dry. He had despised it, but in time he had been bored open to everything, to the cruel unseen reality of the world. Of outside his pack, of Easthollow. And in this he had grown used to it, found comfort in it... content. But now that was gone, and in it's vacancy a new feeling had settled in. It felt full, swollen, filled with a feeling that pulled at his heart and bubbled in his throat like he had drank water wrong. Clay was sure that he was drowning. He had to be. It was the only answer.

He hated it.

Perhaps Valour was telling the truth. Vengeance really was dead. Maybe he wasn't out to get Clay, to get Easthollow to drag him back. Clay wanted to believe this, to find sanctuary within his once close friend...

But now he was too bitter. Too clouded. Too misjudged.

And this all her could mutter was a soft spoken "I'm sorry. I thought you would follow me." To the Nightwalker.
"But I never meant to abandon you. I...liked...you."