Sleeping Dragon Shackles around my wrists

By now he was used to stares, and he was used to pity. It was the attention he garnered and therefore he hoarded it towards himself to contemplate in his quiet moments – pity was a better emotion than apathy.
 
When she came towards him his tail stilled, but when she deposited the meat he carefully watched her. She moved back, leaving it at his paws. With her clearly giving him permission to eat this food, Cirrus dropped his head and wolfed the food down in a few bites and swallows. His belly was sated, for he could only eat little given his scant rations, but his hunger would remain for a short time before his belly could relay the information to his mind. He knew this. Cirrus licked his lips and peered back up at the kind lady with brown eyes, large in his skinny face. He did not tend to speak first – an automatic defence mechanism.
 
He felt he should give her something back, but he had nothing to give, not even a smile.
 
Instead, his tail wagged thrice more, before it lay bedraggled and despondent once more upon the floor of his prison.