Ankyra Sound a gunslinger knows pride - that invisible bone that keeps the neck stiff

Grezig noted the hackles raising along his neck. She sat down, an outward show of peace. Sitting down meant she wasn’t looking for a fight. She kept her gaze neutral. What he said was true, she couldn’t deny that. Her mouth thinned as she tried to explain. “I wanted to go to you many times over the past few months. But… Well, I wasn’t sure what would happen. I wasn’t sure that this”—she motioned with her muzzle to the two of them—“situation wouldn’t occur. I was… trying to avoid it for as long as possible.” 

She sighed, studying Illidan with a sad, if resigned expression. “I never know what to say to you,” she admitted. “You’re… like a thunderstorm rolling in. The rain hasn’t started yet but I know it will soon and I’m only half sure I want to be around when it does.” She shrugged, and then shook her head, surprised at her own eloquence. Grezig was not normally a poetic wolf, but Illidan always brought out the sides of her she didn’t know were there. “Thunderstorms can be beautiful sometimes. The way the lightning forks the sky. But they’re also dangerous and sad. They can make one feel… lonely.” This was the best she could do without out and out telling the boy that she felt unappreciated and depressed around him. She wasn’t sure he would get the message, though.