There was a moment when the dark-furred one paused, and he offered a somewhat bitter laugh, clearly sensing the other's disdain with himself and what he had said.
"Hm. Frightened of being alone, are you?" he asked lowly, his slick voice calming. "That is something you needn't worry yourself about--that much I can tell you certainly." He offered a slightly offsetting laugh. "It's the fact that I don't tend to get along with many people after time goes on..."
As he spoke, his expression grew yet only darker. "They all leave me."
The Wayward Children Pound
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