Bearclaw Valley hello rainbow [m]

val sensed trouble looming on the horizon. not just for the fox, but him.

he could do as he was told, despite some great part of him recoiling against it: he could hurt, and bleed, and bend, until the vixen begged for life and he relished in taking it --

or he could refuse. he could stand up for what he believed was right, prove his colors and his spine were his own and his own alone. to show bravery in the face of great peril - to be exactly as his mothers had raised him.

and he so desperately wanted to be that wolf that stood tall for what was right and just, but he couldn't. not when his stomach was under threat of constant starvation, not when his only home he knew was merrick's, not when his color was not black but yellow. deep undercurrent yellow like a fouled river.

he stepped towards the fox. coward. all hope in her eyes was lost, but even she knew -- she knew she would die strong, and val would die weak. that val had already died, not in body but in some other way irretrievable.

he placed his paw upon her spine. don't do it. and he did it anyway. he tried to convince himself he was doing it because she had threatened the caches. but he knew. he knew he was as weakwilled as willow strands -- pulled and tugged in every direction but their own.

val pushed down harder, teeth grit. he felt the crackle of rib, the squelch of organs suddenly met. and he heard through every fiery nerve the scream that followed and threatened to make him undone too.