Cedar Sweep i was born a shot-gun in my hands

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The cream fur along her spine bristles and his ear gives a lazy twitch as she huffs, clearly not impressed with his reply. There is a distinct rise of capriciousness within the juvenile. He does not contest her words because he cannot. She is right just as much as he (believes he) is. His hostility is far from personal — it is his default mode. Astik hears her disapproval heavy in her voice but cannot bring himself to feel perturbed by it. The only disapproval that has ever mattered to him is from his parents and Tapat. “It’s not personal.” He offers her in explanation though she did not ask for one. It is not an apology — for he would not apologize for his hostility because he isn’t sorry for it — but it is the closest thing she would get to one. It seemed a given though. How could it be personal when he didn’t know her nor she him? I’m just rude to everyone I don’t know. It is an interesting word to use. Astik had never considered that he was being rude, just solicitous. He is a rook. He protects the king (i.e. Tapat) and if that means he has to be truculent to weed out who is genuine and who is not then so be it; what Astik doesn’t realize is that it’s as much for protecting himself as much as it is for Tapat.

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