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Unconsciously grinding his jaw, the pain and pressure between his shoulders became more of an afterthought as their conversation progressed. I was the next in line to lead. I was only in Ferinine to fulfil my duty of learning things about the world. It’s a crime that I left again. Tradition is all we’ve got. We being his incredibly secluded pack. If he weren’t planning on being something great in the future, he would’ve never left.

Yeah! It was his father’s fault! If his father never told him that he had to leave and go swim to another island and learn about the natives and take back some of their customs, he would not be gay!

He oggled Mojave again, huffing. I wasn’t there to make friends, I told you that. A stern bark, something he’d certainly been dwelling on for some time. Of course, he was now finding it difficult not to voice his opinions about all of the facts. Which is why I LEFT! You left your job, I left mine, so we’ve both ruined each other’s lives! Yelling for no real reason, he pulled away as the male stopped.

Spinning to face him on the ice, he stared deep into the illuminated eyes of the collared man. Backing away some on stinging limbs, hackles lifted in agitation. You know, I swam back here—wherever the fuck HERE is—because I wanted to find YOU. The filter was finally dissolving, nose twitching as he sneezed from the smoke.

Staring, angry, and as if he had not brought this all upon himself, Rancor growled. What if I AM? Doesn’t wanting to PROPOSE and kiss the mouth of another man make you gay? He sounded terrified of this possibility. And that was BEFORE I ever saw this stupid fire!

Sitting on the ice now, his head was lowered in shame. Uncertainty, and shame.