Shadewood Oh who am I, M.I.M.E I'm not the one you wanna f**k wit

The creature dropped down to all fours again at the arrival of company. 
Sadness.

Kovertol watched the earthen-toned male curiously. He was pack, for sure. He inhaled an inquisitive breath, sitting back. He let his arms sit in his lap like an awaiting grandfather. This one wasn't well. Smelt of the eye-salt. Kovertol thought it strange for things to such a thing as to leak sea-water from their eyes. 
"Why are you so Wintercearig?"

His jades watched for the micromovements of the face: the twitch of question or recognition. The tinge or crumple before the spiraling downfall into the depthless pit of sadness. He didn't know it but supposed there was no limit to sadness. Happiness, yes. You can be completely content, but there was no telling how deep sadness could tunnel into a soul.