Arrow Lake all these in-betweens that bar my youth

The rumble that had sounded from the towering man could have very well belonged to the storm clouds that had rolled overhead. That man’s sturdy limb was what drew the young boy’s attention. Wobbly and uncertain, Trench followed the length of the leg upward to the soft violet gaze of Mahler. He had helped when the shadow had suffered. Though the pup was not aware of how much, the scent of the stalwart beast was familiar and did not stir feelings of distrust or fear from within the child. Shimmering eyes remained glued to the touches of ash that discolored his dark face. The patterns were familiar, but the pup did not know why.
 
Trench felt his rear legs shake violently before they ceased to hold him upward. He crumpled back onto his rear with a startled breath. Once he felt as though he had steadied his frame, the inkling looked back up to the man hopefully. There seemed to be a moment of tentative hesitation in which Trench held his infatuated stare with the large male and battled internally with himself about whether or not to draw closer to Mahler. Still weak, Trench scooted himself forward – two inches, then four – until he was near the large paw of the Diaspora leader. Once there, he reached out with his dark wet nose and pressed it ever so softly to the man’s leg.