I wrote this as a repsonse to a list of hurt/comfort prompts, so it's only a short, quick thing. Razor's whole feral-child psychology is something I've always wanted to explore and this seemed like the perfect time. As an aside, this is an attempt to stick to the Japanese va's interpretation of the character. It probably doesn't change much, but though I'd mention it, just in case.

Razor's shoulder hit the bars of the cage. Black, spider-like silhouettes of other, similar structures stood as passive listeners to the rattling of the bars. He didn't like being on the ground and surrounded by big things. Backing up on all-four, he leapt at the lock a second time.

His Vision lay on the table by the door. There were other shiny objects as well, the things that the Treasure Hoarders would sacrifice so many of themselves to collect, but he could reach nothing from where he was. He'd tried, stretching rough and clumsy fingers as far through the bars as they could go, but they had been smart and put the cage too far away.

He wasn't bound by any manacles or chains. They had tried. It had been difficult enough to capture him, but by the time they'd gotten through the walls of lightning and the storm of phantom claws there had been so few of them left that they were too tired to even want to risk being bitten. Razor remembered what he had been taught by his pack. Their teeth were sharper than his, their jaws could shatter bones that his never would, but if he were to break the skin of his prey they would suffer a far more terrible, lingering death. He ran his tongue over his canines to comfort himself with the fact that they were still there.

There were voices outside, but their Liyuen accents made the long, unfamiliar words even more difficult to understand. They sounded frantic. Perhaps the poison was already setting in.

He heard names. Or at least, strings of consonants that he understood were connected to people he knew. 'Cavaleree-captan', 'Mister Jonglee' and the one he knew best - 'Traveler'. His breath paused. He knew they would come for him, but he didn't know how long it would take. Were they here? Had they been seen?

'Obezervashon' was a word that he understood only a few seconds after he heard it, and by that point the rest of the sentence had bypassed him. 'Scout' and 'spotted' were both words he understood, but the Treasure Hoarders' voices were muffled through the door and he couldn't hear the context. He missed his friends, who understood that he did not speak this language as well as his native tongue, and so spoke slowly and clearly.

If his friends were nearby, they would need help finding him - especially Ka-eea, who only had one eye. There were wolves like him. All of them were respected, old warriors who could take down whole beasts by themselves but, out of love and respect for their aged dignity the rest of the pack would sometimes guide them through their blindness. Ka-eea reminded him of them, which was good. They were the wolves that made the others feel safe.

He would help them find him. His cage wasn't big, but he still positioned himself close to the small, high window that let in his only beam of sunlight. He took a deep breath.

His howl rang through the mountains of Liyue. It was high-pitched, not like the haunting wails of the elder wolves, but it still broke through the stone walls and great distance that separated him from his new pack. The Treasure Hoarders in the other room almost knocked over their table in fright.

"Stop him!"

"He's just fussing. Ignore him."

"You idiot! He's leading them here!"

Razor didn't stop when two grown men burst through the door. He backed up, on all fours in his small cage, but he took a deep breath and howled again. He howled so loud that he had to curl around his diaphragm to push the sound out harder. One of the man grabbed a club from the wall.

"Shut him up!"

"I am!"

The club came through the bars, more of a jab than a swing. The howl strangled to a yipe as Razor felt it come down on his skull and knock the ground from under him. He fell onto his side and looked up at them, head ringing. His face contorted into an inhuman snarl, a boy turning into a wolf that was turning into a snake to scare its enemies. He held his ground, fingers gripping the flagstones beneath him as imaginary fur bristled around him.

He took a deep breath. The man raised his club. The ceiling shattered.

Three bodies hit the ground as fresh air, sunlight and sawdust dazzled Razor too much to understand what was happening. But he did understand what was happening, really. His Lupical.

"Razor!" Ka-eea's voice was the first one he recognised, and he looked up to see the old wolf run over to the cage. He froze the lock with his hand, shattered it with the handle of his sword, then grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him out. Razor stood on two legs, to show him that he understood. "Are you okay?"

Razor nodded. Ka-eea's concerned expression reminded him of his own, and he drew a clumsy smile across his face.

"Yes."