Haunted Wood Trails of Fire

'highness'

The Easthollian's face was graced with a smile at that simple word, and if he could lift his head Clay would of made sure to give Valour his best one. Perhaps even the brightest one in his sad little life.

But being hoisted up was a shock to the boy, and he let out a small yelp as some of his wounds rubbed raw under the large, dark man. Pulsing. Burning. Pulling his ears back he yelled a curse at the oaf for being so clumsy and made sure to get his displeasure out in the open with a bite latched loosely onto a clump of Santiago's fur.

He normally didn't let others touch him. It was too dangerous—too careless. Just being in the presence of this large man, being carried even, sent signals to the brat's brain to run. Run far. Hide.

But anger was tiring. Too Tiring, and it didn't last long. Soon he had to let go of the Nightwalkers fur in favor of resting of head onto Valour.

Valour.

He murmured the name once more, nuzzling into the thick coat. At least he could trust Valour.