Razorback Ridge Crumbled up and falling down…

I welcome it!

It appears sleep would not claim him as he had hoped.

Though startled by the sudden intrusion, a single eye cracked open at the male’s words, Noctaryn remaining still save for the forced even rise and fall of his chest. Weakness was not welcome in his world, and even less in the presence of an opposing force that was this wolf. 

He pondered the male’s question—rhetorical as it was—for he didn’t quite truly know if it were dangerous or not. Having spent his years chained, alone in the care of humans, he was not privy to the nature of packs, especially around this time of year. 

”I wouldn’t know. Care to enlighten me, then?” His voice, rough with disuse, was deep and permanently raspy due to damage from the noose around his neck. Years of straining against his permanent metallic tether and raging against his captors were enough to alter his voice. 

The ghostly male remained impassive. He was not a threat, not really. Merely a spectator of the Teekons, searching for a place to call home. Though, should this male become his opponent, a danger he himself would become.