Locked, hidden in his mind Heath was dangerous. It was when he had nothing that he was left to start destroying everything. The anger and pain that he and his siblings felt touch each of them differently, and left Heath was a short and explosive temper. With nothing, no game, no purpose he was just waiting, just waiting for the trigger. Running helped, took the energy and drained it out of his body with each stride. Fighting, was ecstasy. The rage and hate tumbled from him, leaving nothing but satisfaction.
It was starting, the warmth of the day and the sudden unease and tension in his shoulders cranked him tight. A voice brought a face to his view, and the beast was lucky. Heath knew he would be grateful that it wasn’t to late. The other male was larger, with ivory fur and large hands. The thin kid would have been no match for it, though he was sure that if he were at the point of snapping he would have scarred the white boy’s pretty face.
Hey. He voice was low, as he always tried to keep it. Eyes held none of the aggression that threatened to well within him. The safety was on, and Heath was glad for it.