The Sunspire Death Is A War[M] Blanket

The guy moves in, joining him under the rather poor shelter, and Clay begrudgingly rolls over a bit to allow room for the man, his paws curling inward to make himself smaller. He takes the chance to then glace at his new company at that moment and immediately regrets it. The world stills...His mouth sours, his tongue too try and too much like dirt.

This man—this beast—His appearance tickles something at the back of the prince's mind, bringing nothing but static to his eyes and ringing in his ears that makes him feel as if he is going mad.

'You are nowhere. You aren't fit.' A voice rumbles from behind the noise. Too faint to fully comprehend but just enough to bring the long forgotten feeling of fear to resurface within his chest.

Clay's pelt puffs out in irritation, and as he moves to get up all he can see is him. The boogeyman, the monster; Ears sharp like horns above his head and a wicked smile to grace his lips.

He quivers, shakes, and sways with wide, unseeing eyes before he finally crumples ungracefully below the stranger's paws, face low in the dirt and meer inches from nails that would better be described as claws. "I-I-I-I" his voice is stuck on repeat, stumbling, spinning, falling over each syllable. "W-Why are y-y-y-you here?" he whispers.