Bearclaw Valley Uncertain flame

Since clay is insighting drama here. Feel free to beat him up! Please do not kill him though, or rip off any limbs.

'Pretty'
Clay drew his ears back at that, snorting directly into Merricks face with a puff of hot air. He didn't take kindly to that word, no matter how many times it had been spoken or uttered to him; loving or cruel— It was degrading. It made his blood run hot, boil under his pelt at the rate that made him feel on fire.

But no matter,— the hot was soon swept away with a chilling tide that froze his bones and made him stiff. It settled in his muscles as this Merrick, this boy, this... leader of some sort spoke words that drowned him on the spot. Whatever cool-headed personality that had been present before was gone.

His father. His mother.

Clay curled his lips up, baring his fangs in a sounding a deafening snarl unlike for someone his size. "How do you know of my family?" he spat, voice venomous. His pelt had begun to stand on end, nape sticking out as took a single step forward. "You dare spit threats at Easthollow? I should punish you for such words."

He was half tempted to lunge at the boy if it weren't for the shadows that murmured and glared, smirked even, at his way. Dumb as he was, Clay knew if he were to harm a single hair on this brats pelt that he would be making a death wish. Some part of him still wanted to, while another part was half tempted to see his father smash this pathetic boy into the dirt.

But he breathed in, snorting again to calm his nerves and straighten up to leave. "However, i'll deliver your message for you. No matter how small it may be," he taunted... and with that he turned, glaring at the quiet female as he attempted to pass by.