Golden Glade Paint it black

There was another,  and the woman allowed her approach, allowed the snap to her shoulder, the sting pain a relief in the mess of emotion. She did not reply to the question,  instead lurching forward, aiming a snap at the other's face, anger building and burning beneath her skin, gaze aflame.

she did not scent the tell tale milk and pups and warmth on the other, so frenzied was her rage. Did not know that this was a mother. Should she have been of level mind, she would not have attacked. And yet, she had forsaken logic in the stead of a misplaced anger that only built