Fox's Glade feel the fear in my enemies' eyes

The added weight on his shoulders left his legs stiff, reluctant to give in. Though, before long, his face was pressed into the dirt and there was a low growl working its way up through his chest, a mixture of emotions filling him. And as the words reached his ears, the negative feelings grew, multiplying nearly tenfold in the span of several seconds. “No,” he insisted through gritted teeth, denying every thought and fear that he’d experienced in the months following his attack. “I never thought of you—not once.” Lying was, in a way, the one thing that might grant him some semblance of control. Not over the situation, but over something—or so was what he tried to tell himself.