Redhawk Caldera Stray away from the forces that make you

He wasn't sure how to take her answer. Perhaps he should have asked more clearly, or rephrased his question, because he wasn't sure by the frail but firm assertion in her tone if that meant that she couldn't come outside, or that she wouldn't. He thought he heard movement, but didn't see anything from where he was, so he attempted to sneak forward again, but found himself reeling against instincts which writhed inside of him the way a snake might in the clutches of a predator. He huffed and puffed slightly, frustrated, and teetering on the edge of having a small hissy fit. He wanted to see her, but he couldn't go in the den, and Fennec was either too wounded to move (evoking pity) or too stubborn (evoking frustration) so he had to take a few moments to allow himself to chill out a bit. It didn't work out very well for him. 

"Well I can't go in there," He spouted in frustration, though his exhasperation was directed mostly at himself. Not that Fennec would necessarily know, though. He pouted, and slumped to the ground just outside the den's mouth. When he spoke again, it was with shame and resignation. "I can't go in there, Fen. I just. Can't-go-in-there." Why was it so damn hard to tell Fennec that he was afraid? Maybe because he thought she'd laugh at him. Maybe because he thought he'd lose some of her respect; but he found himself choking on a confession he couldn't quite articulate. "You still owe fucking backrub." He murmured dejectedly.