Golden Glade The line has been drawn

The scent overpowered her, causing her stride to falter. Feyre could smell the fae before she spied her speeding through the brush, dodging their abundant trees. Her anger grew as she took notice of the hare swinging from the wolfess's maw. This was absolutely unacceptable.

Crouching low beneath the grass, she crept silently behind a tree. She waited until the femme was nearly five feet away, listening to her slam through the underbrush with fervor, before Feyre leapt ouut in front of her. A snarl roared from her chest as she landed, steadying her stance in case the fae impacted with her. She felt her hackles raise as she grew to her full height, which was not much, and her tail raise like a beacon of dominance behind her. Whatever it was the woman had to say, Feyre did not care, not since her last fight with an intruder where she had given him the chance to leave. With her muzzle pulled back in a vicious snarl, revealing her deadly canines, she spoke, "Why. Are. You. Here?"