Deepwood Weald to cut away the mountains i've made

Marruz didn't have compassion. He didn't care for sympathy all that much and he certainly didn't believe in dishing it out. But he was new among the Melonii and he knew that it would be important to familiarize himself with his... allies? Packmates? Kin? The thought needled irriation just beneath his fur; like ants but with cold, sharpened legs. 

Just before he ducked behind a drapery of moss and foliage, he planted his paws hard on the ground. The abrupt halt was all the momentum he needed to pivot on his feet, swinging splenetically to cast his withering indigo and ebony gaze upon this lumbering nuisance.

"What?" his voice, though taut with frustration, betrayed his youth. "Do you need something or should I just keep walking until I lead you off a cliff?"