Herbalists' Cache i've got a taste for blood

Ghost has a flaw that Firestorm is beginning to pick up; he gives in too easily, escaping into frustration faster than he would if he thought things through. Perfectionism instead of fun. Ghost would have fit back in the Pit, but they aren’t there. Firestorm has no interest in repeating that chapter of his life.
The snapping of jaws scrape across his leg and chest, breaking the first layer of skin as suddenly Ghost shifts his weight into him. A snort escapes his nostrils from the impact. At first, Firestorm wants to tighten his grip and toss the silver coywolf away like a bag of potatoes. He releases instead, keeping from damaging Ghost’s scruff further, and steps back.
Again.