Sleepy Fox Hollow helianthus annuus

In the short time Waxwing had gone to better pastures, Anselm had changed. He felt this innately as the male's expression changed to wide-eyed surprise -- such a 180 from their last encounter.

Anselm would not bend. He refused to allow a single shred of remorse to get its claws in him. No - Waxwing -- and everyone else -- had abandoned him. It was their fault he was the way he was, and they had no one but themselves to blame that he would not continue to keep his heart open. After all, it was not an amusement park where anyone could get in and take him for a ride. He was done, in every sense of the word, with playing nice.

He snorted as Waxwing left, tail high and fur bristled. As an extra show of hostility, he scraped the ground with his forepaws to mark his territory, setting to a new round of border patrol to ensure the man got his message and stayed out.