Cassiopeia's View in my dreams, i am supreme

Whatever was bothering the brute, the rough Treborn did not know. It was factually known to him that one could not become such a wreck without a cause; after the death of his father his mother had recoiled, sinking into herself and biting back with words as harsh as a claws' edge. His tongue slipped out once more to dampen the short fur that lined his muzzle, perhaps a betrayal of his wavering impulses towards this rather forceful individual. Yet maybe he just needed help, a soul to drive the termite out of his heart.

"You may quit the sulk," he'd rumble, ascending the cliffs to stand beside the other, should he be allowed to venture this close. "If there are troubles niggling at your fur, I can spare my charity to aide you." It was then that he'd recline to lay beside the man, tassel flicking and eyes gentle with true meaning. He could spare some time.