Haunted Wood and the rest be sent to hell

The identifying bracelet on his wrist jingled as he shook his pelt out again, red eyes flicking over to the man again. A little laugh escaped him when he realized he was being teased, tail swishing back and forth. Perhaps a little too eager to make a new friend. "I wasn't fighting with the tree," he said in return, as if it was obvious. "The tree beat me up!"

Constant vigilance? Clarence lived in a state opposite to that, but he did know how to do it. Crimson hues scanned the man over, and he copied his posture like a mirror, his tail stilling and his eyes alert. But then he responded about his family and Clarence's brows drew together. 

Were his parents dead? 

"I don't think I met mine," he murmured, his head beginning that annoying, aching throb that it always did whenever he tried to recall something.