Lost Creek Hollow i'm out of the game

he frowns at the look that is shot his way; not liking the touch of it in the slightest. heaving a conspicuous sigh, slender limbs gather to push himself to a sit as flighty eyes skitter across his figure. as if whittled from the smoothest stone, proud and imposing as shadows prowl from that obsidian fur and roam hungrily at commanding paws. even the green blinking back at him is muted, like a murky swamp. not wishing to focus on those pressing orbs for long, he casts a cursory glance at the remaining herbs laid neatly under the roots to his side; if he had to make a dash there wasn't a chance he was leaving them behind. not with the cruel grasp of winter being so stubborn this year and the reach of summer so weak. the rumble spills from the man's mouth as he glares back, the arch of a slender brow the only thing disrupting such impassive features. what on earth was there here that he would find amusing? trying to blink off any grogginess from the drugs enjoying their sojourn within him, he scans the rustling surroundings for a sign of what might lead him down the path of humour but the trees simply whisper and snigger back as if part of some game he wasn't let in on. 

gritting his teeth, he shoots daggers back at what he deems a tactless man and retorts coldly "do i seem amused?" screw everyone and their stupid riddles, all he'd wanted was some damn peace. why he'd felt any want to return to the teekons and its bothersome population he no longer had a clue.