The Heartwood Will you tear my skin?

Dreven shifted brown fur plastered to deep muscular chest. Red eyes, burning. Searing into the darkness. Drevin made peace with death. It would be a long rest, long time coming.

Dreven peered onto his leaders eyes. Breath comingling. A slithering, snake of something slid along his back. And he returned the smile with a smirk. His eyes dancing happily. He could reach out with a brush. A touch. He could do so much with the limited space, but he knew not to press. Not to push. It would not end well he didn't think. But if he were feeling bolder, in a more open space, perhaps.

Let's go. he grinned.

If i die you're promoted.

What a way to go though. To rise in the ranks. Malacath disappears beneath the shadowy depths. A deep tendril of something uncustomary takes root deep in his chest and stomach. He hates it.

Though a clamminess steals along his spine. And he paws shake silently. He took a breath and followed behind. Murky darkness and then slowly slowly a glimmer of light