The Tangle lament

Annoyance leaks into his impassive stare.  If he had it his way, he would not be living the life of a vagrant.  Although he did not mind the solitude, winter was coming and his mind was already on the colder months.  The dropping temperatures he could handle, but the lack of prey he might not fare as well with.

He tosses his chin up in a brief nod.  For now.  The slog has now dried onto his fur.  He brushes one broad paw over a treelike forelimb, trying to disrupt the discomfort there.