*shrugs*

The forest was quiet tonight, too quiet for Rott’s liking. His ragged breaths fogged the chilled air as he padded through the underbrush, ears twitching at every whisper of movement. Behind him, steady and unbothered, walked King — taller, stronger, with a mane of dark fur that seemed to drink in the moonlight.

“You’re pacing again,” King rumbled, voice low and gravelly.

“I’m thinking,” Rott snapped back, though there was no real bite behind it. He was always on edge; King had learned to read the difference between anger and instinct. “Something’s wrong. The trees feel… off.”

King didn’t argue. He simply stepped closer, brushing his shoulder against Rott’s — a grounding reminder of his presence. Rott exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from his bones just long enough to breathe in the warm, familiar scent of his companion.

Then it came. A crack of a branch. A shift of air. Something lurking.

Rott’s hackles rose immediately. King’s lips curled back to reveal sharp, gleaming fangs.

They didn’t need to speak. Together they leapt, crashing through the bushes in perfect synchronization. Rott was swift and vicious, all angles and snarled warnings, while King was silent strength, striking with precision and brutal force.

Their enemy scurried back into the dark, leaving only the echo of its retreat.

Rott panted, heart hammering. King nudged him gently. “Told you we’d be fine.”

Rott huffed, but leaned lightly into him. “Only because you’re here, idiot.”

And under the cold moonlight, the two feral creatures stood together — wild, dangerous, and undeniably bonded.