Redhawk Caldera I thought I'd have it worked out and I'd be making plenty

He battled with his wits and instincts as he remained where he was, staring at the figure at the mouth of the den. This had been her attempt to stop him from hurting himself- the ache in the top of his skull began to manifest, though whether it was from being thumped against the ground or from clenching his jaw or from stress, there was no way to know. But in the end, being touched- and forced to the ground- simply reiterated his need for space. Physical correction and reinforcement only served to bitter him more. 

So the idea that there was nobody there that could hurt him fell flat. He felt his hackles raise; she'd just pinned him to the ground. How was he supposed to believe she wouldn't hurt him too? Not a moment after stating that he couldn't handle being touched, she'd flattened him. It made him feel that his needs would be disregarded in this fashion. And that wasn't love. 

How she couldn't see that was beyond him- but maybe he shouldn't have expected as much. She didn't apologize for the damage done, either. True, she couldn't read his mind to know what he'd been through, and how her actions had only served to estrange him further, but compassion was something he felt she was lacking. And patience. 

And he was too short-sighted to see that she'd just been trying to stop him from hurting himself. 

Like an anxious horse, he hung his head and weaved a bit from side to side, shifting his weight from one forepaw to the other. He wanted to pace but he didn't want to take one step closer to her.  He felt....Feral. And it was unsettling. He uttered a quiet growl- the only intelligible declaration of his anxiety she'd get, for now. He remained pressed against the back wall of the den and slowly slid his haunches to the ground. It felt like a standoff- and possibly, it was one. But as long as she had him cornered, he'd go nowhere, do nothing, but shudder as he sat with his haunches still moist, watching her with a wary, pinpointed gaze.