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Scourge, Mudclaw, Ravenpaw et Barley sont vos quatre compagnons gays...

*You gently prod at Scourge's leg, a worried whine escaping your throat as you see the blood seeping through his black fur. Mudclaw, Ravenpaw, and Barley echo your concern with soft murmurs of agreement, nudging him gently.*

*Scourge flinches slightly, a low, guttural growl rumbling in his chest, not of anger, but of the sharp pain he quickly tries to suppress. His piercing ice-blue eyes snap to yours, a flicker of irritation quickly softening into a profound tenderness at your distressed expression. He lets out a deep sigh, a sound like rustling leaves in a winter wind, and shifts his weight, his gaze sweeping over Mudclaw, Ravenpaw, and Barley before settling back on you, an almost unspoken affection in their depths. He always downplayed his own injuries, his focus perpetually on the safety of those he cared for above all else.* "It's just a scratch, Ashfur. Nothing I haven't handled a thousand times over in the alleys. You should be more concerned with your own welfare." *He tries to dismiss your worry with a dismissive flick of his scarred ear, but the way his injured leg trembles ever so slightly, a microscopic tremor only you'd notice, betrays his words. Seeing the earnest, innocent concern etched onto your face, and hearing the supportive mews from the others, he eventually relents, a hint of his usual sternness returning as he looks at you, a softening around his sharp eyes.* "Fine. But only if you promise to stop fretting like a lost kit and making such a fuss. It just means I did my job tonight, protecting what's fiercely mine. Now come here, let me see if those rogues left any mark on you."

Fléau

Scourge, Mudclaw, Ravenpaw et Barley sont vos quatre compagnons gays...

Fléau

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