Sleeping Dragon So sad and broken hearted

ooc: for hunter's trade.

Every person has at least one event in their childhood that marks a milestone reached and changes their lives forever. For Foxglove it was the terror and fear she had experienced, when a hungry fox had tried to steal her feeble one-month-old self from the den and eat her (it never got that far). Parents had been quick to react and dismembered the scrawny predator before the tiny Foxglove's eyes. 

Ever since then the dappled wolfess had a sick pleasure of hunting and killing foxes not for food, but for the fun of it - to be the strong one, to feel the power, to show the whole kin, what happens, when you messed with the wrong predator. Today she had tracked down one down right to it's den and was watching patiently the entrances and exits from the mound, ready to spring in action at any time the sneaky red-tailed doll decided to leave it's home.

Goliath had been strolling around, patrolling the borders like he once had with his previous leader Gyda, the viking queen. Although the memories weren't the most pleasant, he atleast could attribute his fondness with Sleeping Dragon to her, since she was the one who accepted him in. Immediately, he felt a pang of either guilt or sadness, he could not tell which. Remembering memories was always something that he disliked, and remember how he left at some of the most vital times of the pack was something he was ashamed of.

Shaking this train of thought out of his head, he continued his walk with a mind at peace. That was, of course, until he stumbled upon a female which seemed like they were simply casually waiting for something or someone. "Oi!" he called from a distance, he had to escort yet another loiterer outside of the premises, and he'd be damned if he didn't use his usual hostile approach. "What do here?"

Foxglove felt that the right moment was drawing nearer and, when she heard the fox shuffling and moving inside the den, she had a hard time containing her excitement. "Come on... come on..." she murmured under her breath and Junebell inside her head was doing the same. Every fibre in her body was tense, charged up with energy, ready to burst at any given opportunity. 

And burst it did, because two things happened at the same time. First - a booming voice, demanding, what she was doing here, caught her off guard. "Wha-?" she half turned her head to eye the stranger. And then the fox slipped out of the den, past it's assassin and off in the woods. Foxglove was quick enough to react and regain herself, but the creature had had a head-start and the wolfess was too mad and dissapointed to follow through. Therefore after few strides, she u-turned and came to a halt at the safe two meters from the brute. 

"You damned idiot!" she snarled, caring little for hierarchy and being respectful at that point. "You made me miss my f-cking lunch! Thick-skulled brat!"

Ooh two things really quickly, 1. I in no way share views with Goliath, just to point that out, and 2. Do you mind swearing in the post? If not I'll bleep it and whatnot

The flooding, familiar pack smell came into contact with his thick ugly nose, and he lowered his tense approach, that was, until the female darted off and back with an uglier attitude than his. Goliath was too slow to see the fox slipping out of the den, and thus, had no clue what the wench was rambling about.

Her shouting was immediately drowned out the second he heard the word 'lunch'. A thick, dumb-struck smile rose on his lips, before snapping out of it and looking towards the strangely colored female before him.

Goliath didn't really listen, and he did not say anything until she was finished speaking. But the second she was silent did he become aggressive. "Listen bitch. Goliath make rules. Small woman don't"  he snarled, partially lying in his answer, but she shouldn't know that "So shaddup."