Bearclaw Valley Uncertain flame

Clay had not heard the paw-steps getting close, only the voice that made the fur on his nape prickle. With a ripple of muscles under his pelt and a  jump, he turned slowly to the wolf, who he assumed was part of the pack, brandishing the dark scar that sliced his cheek deep enough leave a patch of missing fur—a gift from vengeance.

The stranger, like him, seemed to be littered with their own history of mistakes, judging by the lack of...limb.

Clay raised a brow at that, staring at them with a cold and calculated jade gaze. "What is your name? Who are you?" he asked sharply, disregarding their warning for his own question. He had not been aware of the other creature around the corner.