the curse of dark mountain

His nostrils flared and he leaned away from Erystotle as the smaller wolf suddenly moved to lean against him. Pyrrhic didn't break contact with him as the horned wolf pushed against his chest, just recoiled in surprise and yes, perhaps a little revulsion. If he was to be believed this boy was more or less a killer. And Pyrrhic wanted to believe him, if only to have a flesh and blood reason to direct his anger towards.

Pyrrhic tucked his chin to his chest so he could stare down at Erystotle. What he wanted was a fight not...whatever this was. He didn't want it to be easy. He wanted to struggle. He wanted Erystotle to resist him so there could be closure. A fight would be cathartic, but this? This was confusing.

The pressure against his chest was oddly disarming. He blinked away tears and weakly shoved at Erystotle - a feeble attempt to resist. "You want to die?" he spit the question angrily; trying to provoke the horned mortal and bolster up his own crumbling rage. "You're pathetic."