Ravensblood Forest We're bound to break and my hands are tied.

The assurance she offered him only soothed him for so long – as she leaned against him, her gentle preening lulling him in to a sense of ease, another frown would storm his features as she questioned whether he was content here or not, and his brows lifted in mild surprise as his muzzle snapped back to study her, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea roil in his stomach.
 
Was she asking if he was happy here, in her embrace? Was she unhappy? Was she leaving him?
 
It took a lot to bring about such a strong surge of panic in the ebony wolf – his days after Donnelaith had burned had ensured that. But he tried to swallow it, inhaling sharply. “I’m happy with you,” he spoke, finally, and then steeled himself for what would come next. “Are you not happy?”