Blackfeather Woods Aimless Direction

Squirrel. There was that word again. Twitch's eyed widened briefly, stunned that yet another wolf dared to call him that, and from the same pack (or so he assumed, they were in the same woods) no less. Clearly, he thought, these wolves were too stupid to know their asses from a hole in a tree. Twitch's surprise turned to rage, and he sucked in a deep breath, holding it as he fumed with eyes narrowed on the enemy. Then he erupted. "I AM NOT A SQUIRREL!" he shrieked, bounding back over, rearing on to his hind legs and wildly pointing a finger at the wolf's nose.

"I. Am. A. WEASEL!" he bellowed. "I am a predator. Like you! Except I am  better than you." He glared at the wolf, his nose twitching as he struggled to contain the rage. "How can you mistake me for a squirrel? You and that Damien devil both need your eyes cleaned." The weasel folded his arms, still glaring at the wolf, still pissed to be called a squirrel. He looked nothing like a squirrel!