Ouroboros Spine I had a violin somewhere, I was gonna play it all sarcastically

When she felt him against her she went ablaze, and his words fell upon deaf ears as an inner rage built up within her. A snarl ripped forth from her slavering jowls as her ears pitched forward and she lurched to snap at the air between them to keep the space. Too close. She had no desire to be near anyone, not this day; his absence and his return were both noted, but truth be told, Tonravik had simply presumed he had gone to collect more medicines when she was given time to cool. The leader trusted him as well as she could; there was no reason not to.

But, presently, she looked at him with a coldness in her that could burn, just as she burned within. It was a strange pain, but she longed for no release from it, not feeling wounded, not feeling anything but hot and hungry and irate. She was liquid nitrogen, unreceptive, volatile yet somehow reined in, but still she would burn and break the things that touched her.

The furs along her nape lifted and she seemed to grow in size as she watched him, red lines along her muzzle wrinkling but not tearing. It had healed, now. The bear of a woman shifts her weight, watching.