Shadow Mountain here's what I meant to say was how I'd prefer you, cruel, cold and grey

His paw touched something decidedly not wolf—
 
And it was then several things happened.
 
He heard the hurried movement of paws and dull nails on ground. His nose smelled the distinct, overpowering scent of not wolf but instead cat. And his eyes flew open. All in time for him to recoil and get the absolute shit smacked out of him by an oversized paw and sharp claws.
 
Fucking Frosty.
 
Pain blossomed across his face, sharp and stinging, and blood welled from the rivets.
 
He watched as Frosty—goddamn, fucking, Frosty—launched himself at the cat and caught it by the scruff of its neck, throwing it off its warpath for but a moment and in turn batting at him with a single outstretched paw. He stumbled, backwards. And in turn, Daighre, on his feet, dazed, angry, hurt—
 
“The fuck you go and do that for, Frostfuck?”
 
Because obviously it was his fucking fault for somehow getting them both involved in such a shitshow.
 
His hackles bristled and his stance was low, prepared, at the turning animal.