The Heartwood Running down the halls

The chuff startled her, pivoting to face the the stalker with her gaze ablaze, lips writhing up instinctively to warn off the other. Golden eyes were met with gold. The fire glazed woman took a step back, ears sleeking to the sides.

”What do you want?” her tone was accusing, yet the girl herself had done nothing; it was her pack. ”What are you, a tracker? A scout? A warrior?” the woman was becoming more erratic, her face contorting and torn between running and harming the other. Her pack was part of the intrusion, her pack had just tried to force information from her. 

The woman lurched forwards, her legs unnaturally splaying in her half panic. The woman growled, threatening. Her tail curled and the autumn fur rose in her display.
”I did nothing!” she barked.
It was true, it was Llewellyn who first enroached on her land and she’d not hurt him bad. It was defence, and she had every right to attack the golden man. Now, she sought to wreak revenge on the smaller girl. 

The woman again lept forwards, this time moving closer with a snap of her jaws.