Firefly Glen And a Song Well-Sung is a Sung-Well Song So Sing

Fucking...Burrs. Stupid disgusting awful horrendous- "Woah woah".
Just as quickly as Gawain had worked himself up, he was jerked out of his haze, jolting up to his full height with his large head swiveling on his shoulders towards the source of the voice. An oak-toned female stood a not-too-large distance from him, her gentle voice carrying to where the young wolf had been having his fit. His shoulders bristled with surprise in a defensive manner, carmine eyes focused sharply on the woman. He watched her warily, moving his muscled frame back a pace or two as she stepped forward, his hackles bristling further. The stranger seemed not to pose a threat at the moment, but Gawain couldn't be sure, and he wasn't interested in taking any risks at the moment. 

The yearling breathed out steadily, his eyes flicking quickly between the woman's face and figure, further assessing her level of threat before clearing his throat. I'm...there are burrs. I'm trying to remove burrs from my tail, he offered not a word more than he needed to, his earls flicking slightly as he continued to observe her movements, making certain she was no longer advancing towards him. he had thought of warning her off, but couldn't bring himself to spit unkindness when the stranger had remained peaceful so far. He only hoped his body language would leave no room for questions.