Haunted Wood Trails of Fire

Was Valour talking to him?

No. He didn't think he was. The two voices were getting harder to hear, more muffled by the second. It seemed as if the world was begging him to sleep, to forget about the nightwalkers and the bodies under him, about Ursus and Easthollow. His Mother, his father... to just let go and rest.

But Clay was never one to let go. He was a stubborn bitch!

Letting out a sound of displeasure, the ashen boy raised a paw—or at least tried to without jabbing it into Santiago's side, to reach across and touch Valour. He needed his knight closer! To be near him! His muscles ached at the movement, screaming at him to stop and just lay still, but he kept trying; softly, slowly, pawing lightly at the air with a half lidded gaze.

But even then he noticed after a while that it was futile and he had to give up. For now.

So the boy laid there, atop the man he assumed was Santiago; a beast large and impressive, burning hot and warm under the Easthollians belly. Clay couldn't help but think it was kind of hot to be pampered and carried by such a strong creature, to be able to command him (because of valour's presence. But let the boy dream.). His stomach felt like liquid fire at the thought and accompanied by the muscles moving under him with the man's gate and the feeling of a body flush against his Clay couldn't help but feel aroused. Hopefully, Santiago wouldn't feel it.

On death's door and all he could think about was men."Den... faster," he murmured.