The Heartwood I'm at One With The Silence

The sun was at a full rise. It dug into his dark brown fur. Burning. Searing. Laying thick and heavy on the male. He shifted, body stretching further, further. Like a buffet to be enjoyed as it were, but he was merely seeking relief. Relief from the heat. The demons. Just relief.

When Dreven has not been at Khasni's side or Malacath's he had been at the borders, at the edges of the lands. Wandering aimlessly. But leaving a mark on every rock and tree. Claws. Piss. Sometimes even blood when his scars would reopen or he would step wrong and pierce a paw, but pain was. Fleeting.

Dreven is not familiar with his leaders cohort. The creature that whispers and coddles like a lover. But he was familiar with the head sicknesses, his own father had suffered from it. His mother and his sister. His brothers. Sometimes he wondered how he had been spared.

With thoughts of his leader, his brain became overcrowded with all the things he could be doing to the large, blunt male. Or more so what he could be doing to him. In reply he made a lowly groan and purr in his chest and closed his eyes against the onslaught of what could be.

Caressing. Gazing. He can feel it. He lifts brutish head and stares at his leader for a moment, and then lays back down. Wriggling just so. To gain a better ground of comfort. Though he smirks as usual.

Yes, but it sucks.

Days like these when it's hot and humid. The fur sticks to every single muscle and dip. When he'd rather pant than speak. He longed for the coolness of the underground, but he would not wish to be trapped there.

Would you like to join me? He lifted a paw and stabbed somewhere in the vicinity near himself.