Golden Glade I thought the suits had come for me

WC: 401

As Niamh had suspected, given the fact the alabaster female had hung around, she expected Niamh to abandon what was left to let her eat. She regretted, then, not inflicting more fear when she’d first charged the female...And maybe she should have run her off altogether and chased her far enough away so that she didn’t have to deal with another challenge. When the female spoke and growled, Niamh stood tall, still with one foot possessively claiming the carvass, and tilted her neck from side to side, cracking it audibly. She shimmied her shoulders to loosen them, and then grimaced, baring her bloodied teeth at the female who thought she had some right to the carcass that Niamh had clearly found first.

”It’s mine. Finder’s law,” She said, as though she even understood what that meant- but it was just a fancier way of saying finders keepers. Meals in the wild weren’t a buffet, where you ate your fill and then left the rest, in Niamh’s opinion. She’d found it, chased off the competition and had eaten- but the rest was still hers, or so she felt. ”I have children to feed,” She supplied, wondering if that would have any effect. And it was true- the pack had young, and she would cater to them first if this female would back off. ”Eight of them.” She said, sounding a tad exhausted. Keeping up with the Quivens, the Blackthorns and Caiaphas’ two kids was not easy, as they were fledgelings yet when it came to hunting. 

When the female stepped forward, Niamh stepped over the kill and squared her shoulders, chin lowering to guard her throat, and all along her spine the hairs stood up on end, like golden quills. She tilted her head slightly, turning the left side of her face toward  her pretty foe with the intention of using the scars on her face- four parallel lines from a cougar’s claws as a badge to prove she was a fighter. When she bared her teeth, only three canines shwoed- the upper left was missing. Battle wounds they were, but still she stood, a testament to her skills of survival. If the female still wanted to take her on, Niamh was ready- but there was a savage light in her honey eyes and a chilling note in her growl to warn her- she wasn’t the kind wolves ought to mess with.