Haunted Wood mountains that are stacked with fear

Sorry for the late reply! Didn’t get a pm saying I was tagged haha! And Nah you’re fine! Also sorry for the actual book I just wrote lol

He gently ushers the other wolf away from the prying eyes of the pack. He knows the younger isn’t fairing well at all. The utter pain, emotionally and physically, displayed in those ruby red eyes that amaze the older male so. The color of fresh, hot blood. The thought brings Santi back to the younger stained all over in his own, and Memory’s, life force. He maimed the others face fairly well but Santi knows the other will make it. The damage wasn’t as life threatening as it seemed, the only way he sees the other dying is from infection or blood loss but still the threat is there.

As they come to a shaky halt, those same eyes come to gaze up to his own. They’re so broken. Tears filling them, the rugged misery so blatant, his eyes so crystal clear as to display every emotion. Santi’s own eyes are unable to leave the others, Clarence utters out to him. For the monstrous wolf to kill him. Sputters about hurting others and the possibility of Memory’s pending death.  

Instantly Santiago’s face falls from hardened to strikingly sweet. He shakes his head to the other, gently but briefly landing a paw onto his shoulder. “Sit.” He orders to the other softly.  

As they sit, the larger male comes impossibly close, as he inches closer to press their chest together, he hooks his neck around the others in a type of hug. Gabriel is the last person to expect any type of soft boy comfort from but somehow this naive little shithead has wiggled his way into Santi’s defenses. The motion is slow and comforting, the male cautious of his wounds. 

He pulls back only slightly to gaze upon the punctures that are so pronounced with blood. He hums thoughtfully and hushes the other. Tongue flicking out to run over the others wounds gently. The tang of the others blood is metallic on his tongue just as many before, it doesn’t taste as good. It’s not satisfying. Santi blames it on his odd sweet spot for the wolf-dog before him. So he licks the wound a couple more times, whispering comforting Spanish words that he’s sure the other won’t understand.

He pulls back once more giving him a break from the pain and gazing down intently into his eyes. “I will not kill you. You don’t need to die. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, shit happens sometimes, cariño.” He whispers down to him. “I will help you overcome this fear in time, but you have to understand that it’s possible to learn to control it. Maybe not now, but you will learn.” He offers his services. He wants the younger to get better, to be better at everything. To be a fierce warrior without the fear of his past.