Overture Downs Doomsday

Looking for a friend? Well, he could be a friend. Maybe she could stop looking now?  But such oddly hopeful sentiments were quickly waylay-ed when the woman's tone shifted; it was another thing he was familiar with. Pity. Her voice lilted with it, and the boy's defenses returned in full-force. He reared back his head like a horse being pulled by the reins, listening partway through her statement before slicking his ears back and refusing her further communication. 

Not used to m'ugly mug, ay? That what you're gunna say? His voice was more confrontational now, dropping the sad little boy routine — not that he had been acting — and he stepped up to her defiantly. His tail raised up and puffed, twitching, as if he were going to actually hurt her. You best be runnin' home then, a'fore I do something regrettable with it. He snrked again, swallowing some spit, although some sprayed off his exposed teeth and hit Spring's pelt. Maybe he was just posturing, but there was no way to know; his size and level of hostility combined might have been enough to frighten her, which was all he wanted.