His own voice rang in his head, but heath could tolerate the pain. It was dull, more annoying then anything. It decades passed all he would need would be an aspirin and a glass of water to kill the pang ringing against his brain, but now all he could hope for was it to fade on its own or a few bitter sips of vodka. The latter seemed to have gone missing, so Heath was sure that he would have to just be patient. But he wasn't a patient creature.
The white wolf, who smelled of Heath’s friend Ember, looked as if he was deep in thought. Of course he was still a pansy, Heath was sure of it. As he could remember it was the other male that had been the looser in their fight, though to save him from humiliation Heath had allowed a draw to be called. Studying the other, Heath matched his posture. His soot toned arm crossing the other in front of his chest. You know, just thought I had left something around here. Looking to the ground he was disappointed that he didn’t see it at the male’s feet. Passed the hell out last night, and must had dropped it.
table by erin
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