Sleepy Fox Hollow splitting threads of thunder over me

the anger is, somehow, unexpected. while it seems that only half of the wolves the wraith has encountered since starting his heat truly react to it, he has yet to be on the receiving end of anyone's anger since it began. the heat-scent had almost started to feel like a shield, some sort of protection against the world's more insidious intentions.

the glint of fangs is tangible proof of his mistake.

his ears flatten, steps halting, but zephyr otherwise does not react to the threat for several moments. instead he takes time to notice the tears, the lack of conviction in the shadow's aggression. you look like you could use some company, he observes softly, one ear twitching. the kind without teeth involved.