Ravensblood Forest there is lightning in this room, above our heads waiting to strike

Both of them are stubborn in their own ways—give and take a balance that needs to be found, yet eventually one breaks. Zephyr moves, crawling towards him as if careful he’d snap. Kratos lifts his chin from his legs, one swollen.
His tail tip sways. I do too. The press of their noses is welcomed, tension ebbing away from his muscles, yet they dance a different tune once more; where the silver is willing to compromise, he, too, has been willing. Fortunately the nip is given to the uninjured paw.
Kratos rises to his feet, sluggish and lazy in his movements with his head slouched. Pale gold eyes rest on his mate.