Dawnlark Plains le'awtu

Lost in a daydream where he and Seäe chased the caribou across the taiga, Tsu startled far later than he should've. Ticked guard hairs along his bowed spine rise, his ears press flush against his skull to defeat the thunder of the march and the click of the man's throat. 

He'd hardly the time to roll onto his back, tail curved against his thigh, before the man carved of slate was upon him.

His whale-eyed flinch is born from fear, submission—a distant memory of the ire of his father and the cut of those yellowed teeth. The many times he had to take the brunt of that spite so Seäe remained untouched.

Tsu coiled tight into his snowbed. In a different time, he might have fought. But he is weak now. It's what grants him mercy, in the end. 

"No fight." He exhaled. A shiver, averted eyes. "Not trouble." A pause to search for the right word in alien tongue. "Searching. Alone."