Haunted Wood Suck Shit and Try to Die

Twitching his ear to the sound of Valour following him out shortly afterward, clay turned his head to glance at him behind his shoulder. The male looked tired, his burnt fur faintly ruffled and eyes droopy. He felt a tad bad for waking the guy up, but Clay also wasn't one to turn down a conversation with the Nightwalker.

A lot had happened.

Perhaps they should talk about it. The fact that Clay prioritized seeing Valour once more over his own life, his own pack. He had scrambled to see the boy thinking he would die. be done. Dead-zo. In the ground.

But somehow- he wasn't. Perhaps he should thank the male for that—for saving him instead of letting him rot. Perhaps he should also what happened once he was on the border. The last thing he remembered was seeing valour and then waking up in his den only to be met with the sight of him and that other boy-clarence, flirting.

It sickened him to think back to that, his heart feeling cold one more. He turned away from the boy, giving him the sight of his ass instead of his face. Perhaps he didn't want to talk to him. "Depends," he answered. "Are you going to keep staring at me while im pissing? Its quite disrespectful."

And then he smirked, face still shielded away from the warlord. "Or maybe you're a pervert and just enjoying the view?" he sing-songed.