Hoshor Plains You hit me once, I hit you back.

arktos is the furthest away, but he races 'cross the plains as if he were a man on horseback; both rider and horse pushed to their limits. his flanks are lathered and his breathing labored when he approaches the scene, a low growl aimed not at the fleeing male — he is not concerned with — but the woman who has yet to get the same message.

what was it with wolves of these parts and their broken noses? their borders are clear, outlining the plains as their claim.

this is yellowstone's land, speaks the warbear, moving to shoulder past his wife, fjall and masa; wondering if @Mojag was on his way as well. he would face the large woman, not realizing she was the one nephele told him about during one of their conversations. you've got one chance to leave unharmed. if you do not, your blood will run. choose, his hard expression demands a quick answer.

that he was even showing this courtesy was exactly that: a courtesy. by all rights someone should've had her in the dirt, her blood on their teeth.