the sorting hat

Tonravik continued to snarl and snap, and when her mate was beneath her, she did what she could to keep him there. One leg cuffed her, and as the other came, she went to make a grab for it to disable him from rising by keeping this as her own. Whether or not she grabbed it or not, she did not know; a shriek of terror could be heard, a young wolf came near, and if she did have hold of his leg it would have been released to snarl in a truly menacing manner toward the young cub she thought would try to intervene... but she had not.

The woman shifted off of her mate, in case one cub made a move for her, ears twitching and grimacing at their sounds of fear. She could smell it, but not understand it. The young wolf moved deeper into the cave, toward another ray of light that was deceptive; it came from the roof, but danced against the rocks as though some sort of doorway. The young girl had not moved yet, and Tonravik looked to her mate.