Nothing meansured up to how relieved he was to finally have a spot to rest up. Why that Cry fella seemed a bit shadier than what Morgan could have suspected blew past the southerner. He seemed too quiet, too nice. Like with every single turn the man had some kinda scheme, some kinda plan that he just wasn’t lettin on. Shaking the mess from his head, Morgan minded his business once more as he continued his duty to the black coated man. 

Pissin on a tree and clawing up several others, the mountainous man kept his route going all through the early hours of the day. Soon enough, once he finished all this work, he was gonna go check out one of the banks or creeks in the deep woods, maybe catch him one or two fish. Hopefully, should @Velvet not be sneaking up on him again, he might actually get to keep his catch.

But till then, he did his honest work.

Moseyin' through the borders, the brute was doing his best to mind the things he had already bothered with when he had caught a rumble hittin' his ears with little beacon attached. The scent hit him soon after, and once he turned to catch who made it, the beast of a bandito caught sight of a hunkered form. The smell of copper came soon enough, and initially Morgan thought whoever that was was maybe hurt. Nearing closer, however, a pair of whites come through in the harshly growing shade of the ageing evennin'.
Eyes, and teeth.
Oh, and a reddening hide.

Realization kicked his tail up, and his voice out, a roll of rockslide earthquaking across the adamant border they were near. "Aye you stop that! Ain't none a' that over here, les' you a member of this pack." Chest broad and ears erect, Morgan almost looked himself like a leader. Well hell, if he wanted to get up there in rank, he had to atleast act like it. Cry was trustin' him to do this kinda work, being the 3rd male in this posse. 'Comin' over here eatin' like ya live here; folks don't sniff 'round these parts?' he mumbled halfway to himself and halfway outloud as though he dared this ballsy muncher to say something.

The rider stood there almost stunned the woman had such a heathen mouth. The women he’d been around were gentle gurls that ain’t spoke like that. This lady talked like a man, and it wasn’t much more he allowed himself to do to a lady other than threaten em or please em. So he chose the most appropriate for the situation.

”I’m someone who got rights round here, miss, and last I checked, you aint.” Sarcasm thick in the country voice he had, he took those steps  forward past the border. 

“So best you git goin for you end up somewhere you on’t wanna be. Take ya meal witcha since it’s so damn importan’.” Wasn’t that a peacemaker? He didn’t say he was planning to take it for the pack or anything - he let her keep it. “Don’t matter whether it does or not - is too damn close to home. Invitin’ too much round here. Our porch step ain’t no damn dinner table. Now imma say it again - git on, gurl.”

But hell forbid he’d have to fight if not kill this girl. He didn’t have no experience fighting no female, as he hadn’t had but one sister, and she ran away kinda early. Would she fight for her life over near nothin’? 

Women talking back and just being plain rude. Just askin’ for a right cuff on the side of that pretty head. The brute wasn’t no barbarian to women, but this was what made men so damn abusive to their opposite gender- them goddamn mouths. 

“In fact, good idea- you ‘ont gotta move then. Stay your pretty ass there, and I will do sumthin’ bout it.”

Making a stalking heave of steps forward, he made for her, heavy body clearly capable in a good brawl. He ain’t wanna snatch her up, but goddamnit she was pushin him. Bark hued tail stood out as thick limbs moved their steel bound titan forth, gold champagnes melted iron as he stared her down just a as she did him. 

“Yea- You was spose to let it go- ‘less you suicidal and feel like cuffin up with a man. As many other varmint there is round here, ya had plenty a’ options. Now if I gotta tell you another time, you ain’t gone be able to take shit witcha other than dead ass to hell.”

Damn was he relieved. Should she had tried him so far as to him having to put his paws on her, she woulda called his bluff easier than slicing pie. He wasn’t no abuser of women. He’d restrain her, but smacking her around would have just been rude. Too much for him.

Settling himself and stopping his ‘intimidation’ he huffed a grumped ‘hrmph’ before taking a ‘nicer’ set of jaunty steps toward her. “That Isle behind ya, the one with the two splitted streams, head over both of em and keep goin. You ‘ont need much more than that, do ya?”

Fuck if he had to walk her out and @Velvet saw him escortin’ some random girl, having a walk in tha middle of winter, she’d probably be a bit shitty at him. That’s the last thing he needed right now.