Two Rivers Isle broker no argument

Cormorant flinched violently then, recoiling so harshly one of his front paws rose. To what affect, he had no clue. It didn't matter as Magpie almost passed him by, stopping at his side; the sensation of fur against his made his skin crawl. A travesty, that a common touch was made wrong and dangerous by one man.

Cormorant went to move his leg away — ears fearfully pinning and bottom teeth flashing in the beginning of a stressed expression. He was lucky it was fleeting, as Magpie left the wound with nothing more than a dreaded reminder; his cruel mouth was just the same as a kind word. Both for ill purpose, only ever, ever, self-serving.

His legs protested the sudden jarring as he was forced to relent against a shoving head and neck. He wanted nothing more than to collapse atop of him, maybe hope if he looked pitiful enough that the darker wolf would tire of this, or would carry him further along their path.

Instead, the thought was murdered in its crib — Magpie ensuring to close every little opportunity off like the dying of every candle in a forgotten room. Cormorant was already filthy, uncomfortable, hurting; he didn't long to let Magpie anywhere near his throat anytime soon nor to let the humiliation worsen. He didn't want more grit and pains haunting his hide. His balance was precarious, head already drooped low, tail in-line with his legs, as though he were worried the other would snap it off, given the chance. His voice was hoarse, We can't cross here. It's too wide.