Flycatcher Downs sweet little baby in a world full of pain

im sorry if this jumps around! I originally wrote so much but decided to chuck a couple paragraphs since it was a monster of a post and i felt bad! haha

First Valour, now Clarence. They were really taking this lie far. "It is not polite to fib," Clay scolded. "Vengeance was a beast, massive." Could he really be dead? Was it true? Clay fell silent, mulling it over. "...Are you sure he's dead?" he whispered?

To think that Vengeance might actually be dead helped melt some of deep pitted fear that filled his stomach constantly. If it was true—if the boogeyman was actually gone, then perhaps Clay could rest and not look over his shoulder every god damned second. And perhaps...just maybe... Nightwalkers might have possibly changed. It was still hard to believe, and Clay wasn't sure if he wanted to. If he did, if it was true, then the prince would have to admit he was wrong.

He was too stubborn to think about being wrong. He was too prideful, too precise.

Clay glanced down at his flank when the odd boy asked about his scars. What one was beautiful, silky fur that framed his back and haunches was  now torn, revealing his dark skin underneath. It was ugly. Clay wrinkled his nose at it. "It's also not polite to point out others scars. But I guess i'll humor you since I was rather rude before." Clay drawled, rolling his eyes and sitting down, still a great distance away from the other.

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"No. They were not from Nightwalkers. Just from a man—a monster." he corrected. "One who sought to defile me and take what he wanted." Clay still had his nose wrinkled as he thought about the memory. He didn't want to think more about it, about the shadow that had loomed over him in the night. Of the weight upon his back and hips, of the pain in his backside and the stickiness that was left behind as he laid crumpled and sobbing under spruce.

But once more, Clay didn't want to think anymore of it. He shook his head in attempt to clear the thought.