Ghost Lion Crag for the trees that we see cannot forever breathe, with the changes they will confront

The younger beast seemed to cower upon sighting him. It was not the first time that his appearance had inspired such an uneasy response. When he had first arrived in the Teekon Wilds, there had not been a soul who had treated him normally. Cavendish had expected nothing less of the wildlings in that world. He had come from a family of royalty; he had never been intended to look like them. The prince did not wish to frighten the younger girl away from him, though. He held his ground some several paces away from her and lowered his crown toward the earth, attempting to make himself smaller.
 
“Hello there, darling,” the Davenport greeted in a honey-sweet tone. The narrow length of his muzzle curled into a gentle smile, creating crinkles near the edges of his bister stare. Cavendish did not dare to move closer to her without seeing a transformation take place on the girl’s face; he did not wish to frighten her more than she already was.