Golden Glade One summer day

The dark seer quaked as her fangs snapped inches from his face, certain that he would have emptied his bowels if they had not already been aching from starvation.

Fright filled him so easily that Crowfeather almost did not hear the gold male request that the white wolf might allow him claim. He did hear, however, and found the prospect so unbelievably terrifying that he gawked openly between the two. Crowfeather had not even attempted to right his figure before the woman told him that he could pledge himself to her or leave.

Gods, I don’t need to be asked twice.

It was clear that Crowfeather did not know enough to grant him any form of wiggle room with these brutes.

Of course, thank you for-

For what? For sparing him? For offering him the chance to run away? The seer did not feel grateful to her in the slightest.

As he rose to his paws and began to scurry out of their sight, he glanced back over his shoulder to pray that they would not pursue him.