Permafrost Hollows i'm watchin' the phone ring; it's making me angry

Now that they’ve settled into a home of their own, Kratos gets to work with marking their territory. Every last drop of piss he has in his tank goes to planting “keep out” signs scattered across the vast Hollows.
He’s empty by the time he returns to the main chamber. Light filtering in soft with an evening hue, and Kratos finds that he isn’t alone there. The chamber is big enough that most wouldn’t notice right away, but he’s drawn to his mate like a moth would be to flame.
A chuff sounds out first—tail peeking upwards with a light wag, he approaches the wraith unaware of the turmoil to his face until Zephyr turns towards him.
Ouch.
He approaches, pinching his lips awkwardly upwards as he presses a kiss to his forehead, trying to be careful hence the weird expression. Not that any of Kratos’ expressions are normal. One by one, he gingerly grasps the ends of thorns and plucks them out—it’s an odd sensation of being so careful.