Blackbeak Bluff Casser une Jambe

As much as he would've liked to act like his brother's affection was something he didn't care about, his tail swayed ever so slightly when his Chaudry began cleaning him up. It was a warm feeling he rarely experienced anymore. 

When they were done, and his face sufficiently coated in warm drool, he followed, hanging tightly to the fur. The pelt of the stranger is all he could smell. He wanted to know who it was and why they attacked. Not that it mattered. He figured the tawny wolf wouldn't outlive his wounds, and the black and white one was too scrawny to be a threat with Chaudry around.