Firefly Glen count your blessings not your flaws

The whiskers circling his nose quivered as every muscle in his body systematically tensed at the sudden attention his voice had drawn, and he inhaled a measured breath of the chilly evening air as he readied himself. He was always ready for the turnabout; ready to deal with his mistakes. But instead of a stranger, he was met with the very shadow who'd haunted his mind since their chance meeting upon the frozen shoals of Big Salmon Lake. Hydra, in all her magnificent confidence, rose to meet his words with ones that cut straight through to the heart of him. 

All measure of courage evacuated his body and he wilted beneath the weight of her accusation. He did not so much cower—Rian Frostfur was not a coward, and he would not subjugate himself as a fool might before the she-wolf on words alone. But he did splay his ears as his head lowered to hang heavy, but level, with his spine. His jade-cast eyes sought her own out of some queer sense of affirmation—as if he feared she was just an illusion beneath the moonlit skies. That she might just vanish again the moment he closed his eyes.

Her hurt was plain, if not misguided, and he wasn't about to judge her for it. Instead he slowly descended the hill until he stood on level ground with his friend. "I had to protect the group." He stated plainly, though there was no curtness or irritation tempering the baritenor notes of his voice. If anything, he was sparing her the details. "My brothers and I left Neverwinter, and I spent all spring looking after the following Rannoch managed to gather as we looked for a place to settle down. We couldn't say no to any of them—they're just like we were..." realizing the details weren't all that important, Rian stopped himself and slowly extended his muzzle her direction. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again: "I'm so sorry for hurting you."