Wapun Meadow the nasty words of a hateful song

Donovan seems to play into the Bruin-Witch’s plan as he predictably trials after the smaller, raven furred male. Only soon after the smaller of the two slows into a languid pace to match Donovan’s one. The males shimmering, gold orbs slither over Merrick’s body as he slows his gait. Taking in the numerous scars, and multiple parts that are missing, but most definitely should still be there. This man’s been through the wringer and that means he knows his way around a fight. Considering his confidant stance and tone — straight to the point. Donovan likes that.

Finally nestled beside one another, Donovan shamelessly gazes into that singular fiery eye. “Aren’t I?” He hums with a positively devilish smirk.

Then as if he’d read his thoughts, Donovan releases a low laugh to cover the mild surprise that courses through him. “I’ll let you decide that outcome.” He suggests to the smaller. “You seem like you’re up to something. Almost couldn’t help but follow and figure out exactly what.”