Phantom Hollow capture the erymanthian boar

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Wren greeted him with a purr very unlike any other time they had spoken—and even as he was brushing against her, more rough than he would under usual circumstances and from his ire, he spared only a backwards glance to the rogue wolf as he asked if they were just stay and do it, then and there—his own annoyance clear.

Akavir loosed another snarl—pressing past the desire to simply try to do so just from sheer spite to the other man—before he snorted, instead. “She’s not a fucking spectacle. Get your rocks off elsewhere.”

And then, the thunderous snarl of his words muted closer to a rumble, his teeth grazing at Wren, encouraging her hopefully to move away with him and toward the direction of home as he could feel the tension taut within his muscles. And under his breath: “Fuckface there left a woman and pups at Riverclan,” he noted to her darkly, pale eyes now cast to her, to see her reaction.