Bramblepoint Withering

He was mildly satisfied whenever he made a grab for a dried stick and cleft it cleanly between his jaws. He was not so pleased when the middle section of the stick wedged itself between his teeth at the roof of his mouth and so he paused in his rampage to fuss and growl, digging at the stick first with his tongue, and then lowering down into a bow so he could pry it out with his claws. He scraped the roof of his mouth in doing so, but the stick was dislodged, and then sent skittering off into the bush with a swipe of his paw. 

More frustrated now, he paced. "They don't know. They don't even....KNOW." He murmured to himself angrily, punctuating his speech with another snap of his jaws, or a stone sent tumbling away with a swipe of his paw. He paused and gazed toward the mountains, silverish and austere in the distance, and bared his teeth, hissing hot breath through them. Tears blossomed, hot in his angry eyes. "IT'S YOUR FAULT!" He belted.