Hoshor Plains Looking for life

Donovan is sure Derg is fuming — pissed beyond all recognition. Hell, so would he if someone stopped him from killing the guy that pissed on his parade. Donovan just had a feeling about the stranger male. Something that told him he could be of help in the future. Though if that feeling ever goes away, he’d be sure to let Derg beat him until he’s unrecognizable. 

For now, Donovan turns to the seething male. A silent apology in his eyes that he stopped him from ripping his throat out. Hopefully Derg didn’t hate him now.

The large male cranes his head closer to the coffee furred wolf and nudges him with a leathery nose — an attempt at comforting him. Though comforting others isn’t Don’s strong suit, he gives himself a garbage A for effort.

“Let’s head home, peaches.” He hums quietly. Only taking a few steps towards the direction of the pack before checking back to make sure he’s following. From there, they’d journey back to the place the rest of the Saints set up camp for the night.