The sound of footsteps alert the witch to the presence behind her long before the woman moves in to nip her. She whips around, evading the teeth aimed at her leg, her own muzzle dipping to nip at the other wolf's nose, half-warning and half-playful. Her posture remains neutral, tail swishing as she steps back. Hello,
There's a certain force behind the greeting, meant to put an end to whatever game the flame-furred stranger wishes to play. She says nothing else, but watches the woman carefully.
The evasion of the other surprised the fire sister, who stepped backwards for a moment to snap her teeth in the air and avoid a similar nip. This left them at a bit of a stalemate as far as her game was concerned, but nevertheless, she had a sly grin at the edges of her mouth. Patrolling dutifully I see,
she said. They had stopped.
Valmúa swung herself back into step, trotting forward beside Antha as though the minor altercation had not happened. Her silver gaze strayed for a moment toward the other, looking for a read on her expression.
Her attempt at reprimand fails, but she does not mourn it. The moment has passed, as she intended. At the words, she turns back to her task, only acknowledging the woman with a vague flick of her ears. Flipping unexpectedly from would-be antagonist to uninvited company, her packmate invites herself along. Antha allows this, too, to pass without acknowledgment. She simply continues patrolling and marking, waiting for the next simple observation to pass the fiery woman's lips. The sky is blue, she might say next, and it smells like wolf in these woods. There are worse torments to endure, of course — and that's why Antha stays quiet.
Silence. It was an excellent ploy. Valmúa snorted, licking her teeth. My brother must have hired you for conversation, ja?
she quipped, though expected it to go rather unnoticed. As Antha marked, the fire woman did nothing apart from acting as a mild ringing mosquito in the woman's ear. Something rather like jealousy plagued her, though not toward the girl's lovely appearance. Rather, the freedom that this ansi lítill hlutur had over her made her angry.
Of course, that was exactly how Stjornuati and Solpallur wanted it. Or maybe it was the strength of your piss,
she snorted, shaking her head as though she had smelled a skunk.
No, wait...
No, that is a skunk,
she sneered. One had sprayed nearby. Good fucking god.