Bearclaw Valley I’ll confront and fight for the souls in this street, whoa

Xan thought he'd planned everything out, but he hadn't expected the elder to toss him off. The impact, though nothing serious, stunned him for a moment. He was done playing nice. He would teach the wolf that he was in charge, just as he'd done with the sandy child—though he hoped this one learned quicker than the other, because the day would not last forever and he wanted to get back before the moon came out. He pulled his ears back, but for once it wasn't due to having heard a loud or annoying sound. This time, he was fed up, and his mind informed him that folding his ears back was a good way to show that. Then, he let out one of his little growls, showing his tiny milk teeth as he did so. In no way was he even kind of threatening, especially when up against an adult. Even up against other children, he probably didn't look too scary. His body was small, as were his teeth, and his growl sounded closer to a cat's purr than it did anything else. Still, he thought himself to be ferocious, and was almost certain the elder would think the same thing. Oh, how wrong he was.

For a second, his ears perked back up, hearing a new word. He recognized 'little', and knew what it meant, but the other he wasn't sure about. W-or-ee-er. It sounded strange in his mind, but it also interested him a bit. He wanted to know what it meant, whether it be good or bad, but didn't bother asking the silver wolf. The way he spoke was weird enough, he didn't want to risk thinking it meant one thing, when it actually meant another. Plus, he felt his mother, for example, would be honest with him if the word was an insult. At the idea of the word meaning something negative, his ears fell back again. He let out another little growl, before marching towards the Roman one more. This time, though, he was more focused on biting him, rather than clambering over him.