Redtail Rise etude

He could not tell if she was still upset when he approached, but there was no warmth. A part of that could have just been her way, but he stopped where he was and let his tail fall loose. He would say what he needed to say, but he hoped she took it for what it was. It was hard to word it in a way that ensured that.

You should have asked me. He didn't think she would mind the directness. There was no point in traveling around it. He stared at her and fought to keep his voice steady against the nerves. The anger, and the hurt, surprisingly helped with this. You should have known I don't take things. Especially from you. Here was where the edge of hurt crept out most. She was his friend, and yet at every turn, she seemed determined to make him feel less for not being more like them. He had joined under the promise that he was enough.

He needed her to understand. I'll never be like them. If that's what you want, I can only fail. He met her eyes briefly, then averted, breaking the contact deferentially. His voice sounded strange even to his own ears; he felt sure too. Saying things that were true had always been easiest.

There were a number of ways this could go. There were more things he could say but he held them. He wanted to see what she would do.