Frostfire Ridge she speaks a language

Let me know if I need to change this!

The other scrambles back to his feet in the process, but he’s still thrown off guard because he attempts to stop him with words. His advance is quick and it cuts him off, the words forever lost as he he lunges, mouth open and paws forward in an attempt to force him to the ground in one, forceful, lung-sinking collision. The rage surprises him, remembering the last time he’d seen the dark male, threatening her companion, finding out his true intentions. By any association with that wolf, this one is just as guilty for his betrayal. 

Once the other is pinned beneath him, another surge of blood in his mouth that drips from his jaws in the thick of his saliva. The announcement on the grotto wolves hadn’t change in his absence and up until this point, they’d stayed away—whether they’d been here before, they hadn’t been caught—but now Gavriel doesn’t even question what he’s meant to do, growling and snapping at the smaller male.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”