Sea Lion Shores the preacher in a t-shirt told me i could be a leader

Just his luck. It wouldn't just be two angry parents, but alphas. And if this girl raised her voice even slightly, well, that'd be it for him. Weren't kids supposed to be the fabled canary in the coal mine, the cagey pet in the haunted house movie? He was fine with an adult calling him a good-for-nothing, as they often did, but this shrimp had known him for all of five seconds! And that was enough for her to mark him off as unwanted? The last scraps of his self-esteem hung tenuously by a thread, buffeted by a freak wind.

He drew back, more embarrassed than anything. His scar smarted and itched terribly as blood rushed to his face.

I ain't gonna hurt you, kid, he laughed, but he was miserably serious.

Yet another girl approached them - siblings? - this one smaller, a total dust mote with a shock of red on her face. At least she didn't seem to hate his guts from the get go. He sent her a half-hearted wave even as he turned away with the full intention of leaving before he was skinned alive by the powers that be.

Too late. The belated bureaucrat arrived in the form of some redheaded manchild who waged war on his personal space and screeched something incomprehensible. Gav tripped over his paws and landed flat on his back, arms crossed over his chest.

I followed all the rules! I'm not trespassing! I didn't harm a single hair on those girls! A useless torrent of words swarmed around his closed mouth as he stared, cross-eyed, at the strange wooden contraption only inches away from his snout. 

I'm sorry, he gasped. Don't kill me. Don't kill me. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the end, the bright light, the trumpets, and the angels dancing on the heads of pins.