Haunted Wood you can't go back to constantinople

Valour seemed to notice him and Clay couldn't help but smirk at the reaction of the other deep down, feeling prideful and powerful enough to cause such an expression on the other. Good. But even then he refused to let his glare up, he only flicked his ears and crossed his forepaws, a symbol of his reckoning to come later towards the new-founded warlord.

And when Valour looked away to the other, Clay watched, turning his gaze to the white boy whom he remembered from the border. Was the boy that horny? Flirting with him and now onto Valour? Clay wrinkled his nose at the thought, turning his head so his nose was pointed downwards, his ears flipped up like horns as he glared harder through furrowed brows.

The only words that escaped his mouth was a quick 'tch' of him clicking his tongue before turning around to resume sleeping. Or maybe just giving the two a silent treatment.

Let them think he was sleeping. He was still as furious as ever.