Haunted Wood Trails of Fire

SETTING: Phantasm River
Weather:Foggy
Cool
Midnight

TERRITORY: Haunted Wood
TAGS: @Valour + 1 other nightwalker, maybe @Santiago Acros?
Takes place a few days after this thread

Days? Nights? Uncertain about how much time had passed since the encounter Clay drove forward. His head ached, pounding against the side of his skull with an incessant drum that makes him wince with every pump of blood. His body— torn ragged and littered with scabs and dried blood, tired from over-exertion from hobbling all the way to Nightwalkers, made itself known with every paw-step.

To Valour.
Valour.

The name was a mantra upon his lips with every breath. He had to get to Valour.

Past the borders of Nightwalkers, the prince's heartbeat fast within it's cage with every look into the shadows.

Monsters.
Nightmares.

He knew they lurked about, sharpening their fangs on bones of their prey—awaiting their next meal to feast upon and eviscerate.

Would Valour protect him?

Another night without sleep. He was out wandering aimlessly around the fogged woods as was his usual routine when he couldn't rest. All was quiet as was usual nowadays except through the fog came a few crunches of something treading upon leaves. Turning he focused his senses and walked slowly toward the source, breathing in the heavy scent of blood. Worried that one of their wolves had been injured he began to hurry, coming up from the side of the injured wolf and freezing in place when recognition struck his heart leaping into his throat. 

"Clay" he croaked stumbling forward, shooting a wide eyed glance around him in case anyone else had noticed his presence. Silver eyes traveled over the bloody ruins of a beautiful body, his lips quivering as he struggled not to cry at the sight of it. "We'll fix you up" he said shakily  as he moved closer, eyes roaming Clay's face for signs of reaction as he tried to sidle in against him to offer his support his muscles rigid with pent up anger "What happened? Who did this?"

His eyelids flutter open with a frustrated huff of breath to follow. Why can’t he ever sleep? He’s been lying on the ledge he’s made his home for about an hour now, unable to catch much needed rest. The thought of chasing sleep seems fruitless to the monochromatic wolf, so the urge to walk about aimlessly wins. Rising up from his nest, pouncing down the rocks, he meets the floor of the grotto. The restlessness beneath his muscles take him far off to the river that bares fresh water for their pack–Phantasm River.

The blackness of the surrounding area makes his skin crawl and he decides that he loves it. Even with the moon up ahead, the light is struggling to reach the forest floor even in less tree-populated areas. For the fog that’s settled over this land is only one fit for nightmares. Ones where monsters hide in the dark and creep around corners to set their beady eyes upon the unsuspecting. The large male fits in nicely.

Then not too far off in the distance does he see something lurking there. Perhaps it’s one of the many unsuspected and horrid Santiago is the monster. Perhaps it’s the other way around. 

Overall, he won’t find out until he investigates. So investigates he does, shuffling over to the thing in a brisk trot, the wolf cares not for any trivial sneaking. This is his home now and he will defend it with his cast iron brawn.

Traveling that much closer Santiago finds another wolf smaller than he and his usual menacing smirk crawls along his face. The wolf has distinctly feminine characteristics and Santi has no trouble happily eyeing them down. Although they do seem panicked if anything. At a quick look at their coat they seem tad bit ragged–rough around the edges one might say. A perfect victim. Or maybe just something to play with.

To his dismay, it seems their warlord has already made it to his “unsuspecting victim”. Yet that doesn’t mean he can’t have fun. So unaware of the conversation had between the two. He makes his grand entrance, he saunters into the strangers point of view, only a couple meters ahead. The black and white wolf seems to appear from the fog that crawls low to the forest floor. His head level with his body, shining–dangerous teeth gleaming in the low light, he looks positively devilish.

“Oh.” He rolls out in faux astonishment, as if stumbling upon the stranger by accident. “Now who do we have here? He’s not bothering you is he, Valour? He hums smoothly, accent rich and voice deep. His silvery hues never leave the others form, rather they move to shamelessly rake down the strangers body. “You’ve come to play, no?” He asks with a cock of his brow and a inquisitive tilt of his head.

As always; it doesn't take long for him to be discovered within the hell, and through a half lidded gaze and hazy brain drifting in and out of consciousness, the young prince can smell Valour close—his scent thick, woody and comfortable.

A smile graces Clay's face, and with a slight wag of his tail he immediately leans into the large wall of muscles that graces his side. Warm. He nearly coo's at it, unaware of the unbridled rage flowing through his companion. Perhaps if he was more lucid he wouldn't dare show such affection. But crashing after adrenaline, the easthollian is more high than anything.

"Oh, Valour," he sighs, acting surprised as he slumps down more towards the ground, nearly laying at the agouti's feet. He is far too tired to continue walking. After all—he found his prize, he doesn't need to keep trying.

That is... until another presence makes itself known.

With the smile faded from his face in favor for a death glare, the boy stares at the ground ahead. Unable to find much strength to lift his head. All he sees is the paws of the stranger, large and imposing, connected to thick legs corded with muscle. Clay wrinkles his nose at their voice thats riddled with an accent he doesn't know. It's their tone that dissatisfied him, and the insinuation that leaks from their words.

"Try anything and i'll soak the earth with your balls," he threatens while trying to meet their gaze. Tho given how tired and ragged he is, the threat probably isnt all that believable to the boogeyman.

The ashen boy smiles at him as he pressed into his ragged body and Valour's pupils dilate however much percent they're supposed to when staring at something you adore. His own tail tapped against his ankles as he gave a tentative on of his own, expression still tight with concern as nothing was said except suddenly Clay sighed his name and dropped. Time slowed for a moment as a physical jolt of lightning (felt like it) shot it's way down his spine causing a hot rush to burn toward his groin. Perhaps not the best reaction to a friend swooning but hearing his name be sighed so serenely from Clay's lips had been about the nicest thing he thought he had ever heard. Finally snapping back to reality he moved to press his nose into Clay's fur to comfort him before his gaze caught the approach of Santiago. Despite having a positive opinion of the man Valour's tail shot up high a growl rumbling to life as he stepped on front of Clay his intentions to rebuke Santiago ended by Clay's threat. Composing himself he shot Clay a look filled with fierce pride, supporting his display of backbone. He hadn't seen it in Clay before and secretly he kind of wished Santi would push Clay's buttons a little more to stir that fire up so he could watch. "Enough Santiago he's my-" he paused and shifted closer to Clay "He's an old packmate and my best friend. You won't hurt him"  he wasn't sure why he'd been hesitant to explain Clay as a friend. It seemed....like such an unimportant word compared to the loyalty and affection he felt toward the Easthollian. "Clay can you make it to my den?" he asked his voice falling back to soft concern, not giving a shit that Santiago was there to witness it.

The threat spat back to him by the weakened wolf make Santi raise his head high and a huff of breath that could be considered a laugh exhale through his nose. Of course not taking the other seriously, his devious smile remains.

“Oh, he’s feisty.” He mumbles back to the slate pelted wolf.

Then as his Warlord steps between the other male and himself Santiago twin moons gaze expectantly to the younger man. His questioning gaze is met with an interesting reply, the words confident enough for Santi to not laugh in his face. Though what got him turning head is the demand of You won’t hurt him. meets his ears.

Santi’s ear twitches at the order and he nods curtly. “As you wish.” He hums back lowly. The smile fades enough to where his expression is taken more as neutral than anything.

The silent chemistry of the two isn’t missed by the curious wolf. Rather than interrupting them he waits for the hushed words to finish. Stepping a bit closer Santi nods down to the pair. “I can carry him if I need to.” He offers his services only to remain respectful to his Warlord. Though Santi isn’t a fan of helping strangers, Valour’s word mustn’t be taken lightly.

There's words, mumbles maybe?

Clay squints at the two of their paws, gaze growing heavy with every passing second and pulse of his brain. All he can notice is the length of the weapons— rather large ones, overgrown and adorn with cracks.

There's dirt underneath.

Perhaps more.

Perhaps it's his head. He can't think straight. All he takes in is Valours voice; a single sentence. Something about his den. Valour's den.

Going to Valour's den?

He can't help but smile, delirious from blood loss, from the coldness in his bones, the pain in his body. "You haven't even courted me," It's more of a question than a statement. "...but i'll make an exception to excuse your unpleasant behavior just this once,"

At this the slated boy elegantly, or rather—he thinks elegantly, flops over onto his side. Way too tired. "Carry me. Both of you."

Something clicked in the moment Santiago deferred to him so easily, there wasn't any challenge and the man didn't even seem terribly upset about him snapping. Valour felt bigger than he ever had before, like he held the strength of a thousand wolves just because one powerful one listened to what he said. It felt right to lead, it felt good and he knew why the Warlord rank was something everyone had been eyeballing Vengeance for. Releasing a tensely held breath he gave Santiago a grateful look as he nodded silently and moved aside to the man could help him gather Clay up. Just then he heard Clay begin to talk and if Valour could have blushed he would have instead ending up staring down at the injured boy with a stunned expression. He wanted to be courted? What was that? Like... flirting? 

Did Clay want Valour to flirt? 

Clay's not so graceful flop to his side snapped him out of it "Yes sir your highness sir, We'll get right on that" he said teasingly a slow smile forming over his tense expression and with a roll of his eyes playing off the demands with good humor looked over to Santiago, the fear for Clay's state of health still showing in his wide pupils  "help me get him up. Please" he looked away again quickly figuring Clay's delirious talk had been heard openly and feeling embarrassed though secretly his heart was going a million miles per hour and he felt a little woozy. Courting. There was the chance that it was actually just delusion brought on by exhaustion and pain. There was a chance that it was Valour reading too much into it. He knew this but did that mean he had feelings for Clay? The way he still felt a rise of hope made it clear to himself stubborn though he was, crush or not he really enjoyed being around Clay. Gently he pushed his nose underneath Clay's neck, lifting him up and sliding himself under so the boy was partially lifted until Santiago helped the rest of the way.

The fact that Santiago doesn’t act like a complete ass when Valour asks him to do something seems to make Valour somewhat grateful. When the other male gazes back at him in thanks, Santi response unsurprisingly with an easygoing smile and a wink.

Though the next part where the agouti male calls him your highness confuses him. Either it’s a term he uses joking at the hurt wolfs order, considering the teasing lilt to his voice. Or, the man is actually of higher power. In that case Santiago decides not ask and just do. 

Valour moves to slide a muzzle beneath his neck after asking him to help. “Will do.” Is all Santi says before he’s moving as well. “I’ll carry most of his weight. Just watch his head.” 

Coming up from the same side as Valour, Santi noses his leathery nose on the man’s side looking so squeeze his he’d underneath his body. Digging his chin into the damp dirt below he’s able to make his giant head under. Now actually lifting him, he points his nose skyward to shift the males body to lie on his shoulders. Clay’s hind legs are on one side of his shoulders, while his front are on the other. Santiago support his weight on his midsection. 

Once settled he looks to Valour. “Lead the way, Warlord.” He says playfully, yet a hint of dark mischief reaches his tone as well.

'highness'

The Easthollian's face was graced with a smile at that simple word, and if he could lift his head Clay would of made sure to give Valour his best one. Perhaps even the brightest one in his sad little life.

But being hoisted up was a shock to the boy, and he let out a small yelp as some of his wounds rubbed raw under the large, dark man. Pulsing. Burning. Pulling his ears back he yelled a curse at the oaf for being so clumsy and made sure to get his displeasure out in the open with a bite latched loosely onto a clump of Santiago's fur.

He normally didn't let others touch him. It was too dangerous—too careless. Just being in the presence of this large man, being carried even, sent signals to the brat's brain to run. Run far. Hide.

But anger was tiring. Too Tiring, and it didn't last long. Soon he had to let go of the Nightwalkers fur in favor of resting of head onto Valour.

Valour.

He murmured the name once more, nuzzling into the thick coat. At least he could trust Valour.

The yelp sent his heart racing and he whipped his head around, expression one of genuine panic as he half expected something to be seriously wrong. Instead he saw Clay latched onto Santiago's fur and with a stricken expression he just held his breath waiting for the man to attack before Clay limply let go and draped across his back. His legs shook for a moment before he quickly adjusted to hide the fact that he was still not big enough to easily help carry another, shifting until he felt Clay wouldn't shift around too much. The ashen cloaked boy's muzzle pressed deeply into Valour's shoulder blades as it was nuzzled into him, the cold sharp wetness of Clay's nose sending shivers down his spine in an entirely different way and he cringed due to the situationally bad timing for what he only knew by instinct and a fleeting, despicable discussion about it with Vengeance. Time seemed to slow and Santiago's voice was more a quickly rattled off murmuring in the background as his ears pricked up, catching his name murmured by a much sweeter voice. Before much else of a reaction could happen he forced himself to stiffly walk forward, eyes staring ahead of him as he took slow and deep breaths ignoring the way Clay was making him feel and focusing instead on the more important scent of his blood. "I'm sorry Santiago, are you wounded?" he finally paid the man the respect and attention due to him, casting a glance over his shoulder to meet the man's eyes as he walked though that too proved difficult as he could see the curl of a smile on Clay's face and it made him want nothing more than to hurry back to his den so he could tend to the boy alone and maybe, just maybe get a good night's sleep for once.

When his nose digs beneath the other male to hoist him up the noise he lets out surprises him as well. Not wanting to hurt the man who apparently means so much to Valour he did try to be gentle. Though, getting him situated to be carried is no easy task and the hardest part is gettin him on his shoulders. With Santiago supporting his body weight and Valour assisting with the males head, they should be able to make it back at an efficient rate.

The sting of fur being pulled catches his attention as the so called princes weakly latches onto him to show his distain. In the same moment, Santi considers dropping the injured boy then and there. The attempt at biting him only makes him shake his head and chuckle.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, amigo.” He hums out casually to the seemingly ungrateful wolf, uncaring if he hears him or not. “I’m fine.” Is his next reply to the Warlords question, his voice neutral with no real emotion laced through it.

All he cares about at this point is making it back to the grotto and allowing Valour to take the reins on this one. He vaguely wonders who this man even is and why he’s here. Yet, he doesn’t feel like it’s the best time to ask. Shutting his mouth to prevent any hurtful comments from slipping out, he continues on to the grotto, Clay in tow.

Was Valour talking to him?

No. He didn't think he was. The two voices were getting harder to hear, more muffled by the second. It seemed as if the world was begging him to sleep, to forget about the nightwalkers and the bodies under him, about Ursus and Easthollow. His Mother, his father... to just let go and rest.

But Clay was never one to let go. He was a stubborn bitch!

Letting out a sound of displeasure, the ashen boy raised a paw—or at least tried to without jabbing it into Santiago's side, to reach across and touch Valour. He needed his knight closer! To be near him! His muscles ached at the movement, screaming at him to stop and just lay still, but he kept trying; softly, slowly, pawing lightly at the air with a half lidded gaze.

But even then he noticed after a while that it was futile and he had to give up. For now.

So the boy laid there, atop the man he assumed was Santiago; a beast large and impressive, burning hot and warm under the Easthollians belly. Clay couldn't help but think it was kind of hot to be pampered and carried by such a strong creature, to be able to command him (because of valour's presence. But let the boy dream.). His stomach felt like liquid fire at the thought and accompanied by the muscles moving under him with the man's gate and the feeling of a body flush against his Clay couldn't help but feel aroused. Hopefully, Santiago wouldn't feel it.

On death's door and all he could think about was men."Den... faster," he murmured.

Valour moved faster hearing the sound of displeasure from behind him. Though he had no idea exactly what was happening he was aware of Clay's discomfort only the painful part aha and sought to bring the sole holder of his affections peace. Heart skipping at Clay's soft murmur, a plea to reach his den faster and his concerned thoughts changed and he felt his body grow flush as he found himself wanting to hear those words but in a different situation. "Almost Clay" he spoke voice soft as he tried to hide the way the thickness in his throat dropped it about several octaves causing it to crack. Finally he spotted the hill where his den was, leading them to an abandoned deer den he'd clearly spent time digging out and making space in. He'd never understood wolves who could enjoy squeezing into tight little spaces when they wanted rest. "Watch your head" he warned as he slowly entered having to be wary of the roof at this point himself. Once inside he slowly slide himself under Clay properly and helped lower him to the floor facing Santiago to speak with him before he'd focus on Clay "I'm going to try to get him better quick. He won't be here long but I need you to help me keep it on the down low" he wasn't sure that he could trust the man to keep it a secret for long if he even would at all but he was desperate. Vanity and Serem would know who Clay was and though things were different he wasn't taking the chance of either woman being angry that a deserter of Nightwalkers was being allowed respite. "Can you get me something from Serem's den? For pain? And maybe infection?" he asked trying to logically think of what would be good for healing wounds. 

slight pp of them entering because aaaaaaa I suck at writing. Pls lemme know if that's not okay <3

I g with it ;) Also, Santi out until addressed again or what not. 

The wolf he carries is definitely making it more difficult to get back then it initially needs to be. Shifting about as they carry him and Santi had a mind to growl at him in warning. They’re saving him and he making everything so much harder. The male hopes the males behavior is due to his pain induced haze, maybe the lack of blood. Who fuckin’ knows.

When they arrive at Valour’s den, he takes note that he’s never been over here. For good reason of course; he has no reason to be in or around the males then–simple as that. Yet when they walk the stranger wolf into Valours home and set him down, he finds himself gazing around for a second before locking eyes with his leader.

At the mention of keeping the presence of the injured wolf quiet he laughs. “You’re the Warlord. What can they say? If anything they have to respect your order.” He comments obviously, one brow furrowed the other raised. Then he shrugs. “If you want to keep it quiet, then I will.” He murmurs finally.

“Yes. I’ll get some shit from Serem.” He chuckles quietly.