Moonspear hear me, hear me brother

The dark young beast listened to Desdemona speak to him, offering words that should have helped him relax and feel better about the looming threats that dwelled outside their claim. Instead, the shade was left with a bitter feeling that clung to the back of his tongue and slipped down his throat.
 
Atlas did not wish to be chided by the woman he had grown to consider a friend. Though he would not say as much to her, the inky figure felt that there was a thin line between doing too much and not doing enough to keep their territory and their family safe. Would he not rather err on the side of doing too much? Surely it would have been a better thing to spend his energy tirelessly working to keep Moonspear safe instead of to assume that nothing would harm them. Atlas did not know if he would ever be the type who would simply live in the moment; his worry and anxiety had a tight hold on his mind.
 
“Perhaps, but I would rather be overly cautious,” he told her in a stern voice. “It would be far worse to me if I did less and something happened than if I were to work myself to death over nothing.” Then, the sunlight beam of his gaze latched onto her. Atlas knew that while he might have missed some of the simple pleasures, he felt far safer than if he adopted the opposing mentality.