Ouroboros Spine trouble come knockin'

masa growls softly, a low rumble that reverberates in his chest as he shakes his head sharply, like he’s trying to clear the cacophony of thoughts thundering in his skull. war drums... voices... they gnaw at the edges of his mind, twisting his already-tense muscles tighter. his hackles are still raised, though he’s no longer lunging, no longer pushing for a fight.

his yellow-grey eyes narrow as the pale wolf speaks again, voice timid and cracking. worry. sympathy. masa can see it in the way the other wolf moves—tentative but unwilling to flee, even after everything.

“help?” the word comes out in a bitter rasp, laced with disbelief. his gaze burns into lorroakan’s face, searching for deception, some ulterior motive. but he finds none. only fear, confusion, and something softer, something genuine.

it grates on him.

“you’re a fool.”

like stone scraping over stone. he stares at the bloodstained snow between them, pulling him away from the frenzy in his head.