Otter Creek make a fist and close your eyes

Zharille ranged where she pleased, aware now of her progeny and their success, and that of @Khaba's harem. What had he made of the lake, but a place to fill with women? It displeased her. There were many obstacles now before the beastly woman to work through, or dispose of, so that she could reclaim her place.

The lake was her home. She had been the one to choose it, to mark it, to birth a legacy there. Whoever tried to keep her from this life she had built would be dealt with.

She stalked now alongside the creek with a brooding stare, watching the water deepen and darken with the coming night.

He recognized the scent with ease as it trailed back through the territory.

Khaba couldn't help but be surprised—though, a touch of anger and resentment overtook it.

Tail flagged high, he approached the familiar form of Zharille. A few short feet away, he stopped, staring her down with a sense of coldness.

You left us. His eyes told plainly, explaining the sheer disdain he portrayed toward her.

He began to wonder to himself. What would she gain by returning? Did she mean to reclaim her place as his equal? But one question in particular fogged his thoughts. After returning now, would she only leave again shortly after?

He came to her, finally. Not with his women in tow, though he was wreathed in their scents, and with the imperious stare of someone with all the power in the world. Power which she had granted him, once. He had earned the right and she had seen fit to place him beside her. Now, what? He did not trust her intentions. All the times he had left her to the lake, and she had waited for him; now that the situation was reversed, he would not welcome her?

She knew her place was at the top. If not at the lakeside, then elsewhere — but she would not grovel.

His posture was met with a mirroring. Her body rigid, her tail up. Pride would likely be her downfall one day but Zharille carried it well; and she knew without her, and without her children, there would be no pack. She chuffed to him, dismissive, and stepped close so that he could find the scent of their daughter there upon her.

Mine, she was saying. All of it — the lake, the children, himself — belonged to her. If he did not agree, it mattered little to Zharille. She would find her way back to power.

She had every want to be back in her former place. But Khaba knew well that it would not be beside him, yet above him, as it had been before. As it had always been, even on the day they'd met. But things had changed. He no longer felt the need to see any man or women above him. They were either his equal, or his inferior. 

Even with her return, this would not change on her behalf. She would see her way back in their ranks if she so desired, but her former role would not be given back so easily.

She pushed close, and he did not allow it, snapping his teeth back in defiance. No. He countered, muzzle lifting. 

The children may have come from her womb — but to leave them so young, without even a trace or explanation, meant only selfish abandonment. Khaba could see it no other way. He'd raised them as father. Now, he saw Zharille as nothing more than birthgiver. She could not use their existence to her advantage. Not in this way.

Stay, as subordinate. He offered with a faint-hearted rumble. Or leave. 

If she wanted power back so badly, she would earn it, just as he had.

The man before her had changed. He was hard-hearted to her now, not as malleable as she had once liked, and there was no connection between them. His rumble was met with a cold stare, a flash of her front teeth and the tip of her tongue slipping between, snake-like. Zharille knew if she started from the bottom it would be a matter of time before she'd earned her place back — that it was the very law she had tried to instill within the lake pack from the start — but it infuriated her to see it used against her.

She was healthy and strong, and she knew she could fight her way up. She could easily show those younger, weaker women of Khaba's collection what a real woman could do. The fact of the matter was, Zharille's pride forbid her from being relegated so low, regardless.

Her flash of teeth became a grimace; but she did not lash out, she stepped back. Her posture remained proud and each step was stiff, as she now saw Khaba as a threat. He was now another obstacle. She had fought him before he held his power, and they were evenly matched. This would take cunning rather than the brawn that Zharille was used to.

The woman snapped her teeth, a decisive no.

But she would return to the lake, soon, and take what was her's.

fade? :3

Zharille refused to give in. Something he once saw respect in. But now, she used it only in her lust for power over the lake that once belonged to her.

Once. But no longer.

Knowing her answer was clear, Khaba straightened his posture, eyes leveled upon her. Then you will not again be welcome back. A faint growl of decisiveness. 

And all would know this. 

Not waiting for her to leave, a call would quickly be sent to the skies. Subordinates, omega, children — each would know of Zharille's abandonment of the lake and want to take it from him. And each would play their part to keep this from happening...

...or die trying.

It was decided.

Zharille would not linger.

She had to find a way to reach her children, whether Khaba approved or not — and as he called out to Greatwater to rise and defend against any action she'd take, she knew she would have to fight her way through those little girls of his harem either way.

But her children would be liberated.