Moonspear we're gonna die young.

She shook her head when her offer was disregarded, but her mouth twisted into a smile.  "That wasn't sarcasm.  A genuine offer."  She shrugged.  "You are so clever, to have avoided the climb down. That would be sarcasm." From the nature of her injuries, and the quills still visible in her cheek, Roz had deduced the most likely cause for her presence, impaired, at the base of a rather large cliff face. Call it an informed guess.

"You're rather testy, for a wolf who can barely stand. I happen to like it here." She sat down as a wide yawn took her. "I'm not the one who woke everything in a five mile radius up with her racket."

Generally speaking, toying with injured wolves wasn't a pastime she often engaged in. Sometimes pain and fear could make a wolf unpredictable and she liked her skin too much to risk it like that. But this wolf showed more irritation than fear and Roslyn did get a kick out of making irritated wolves more irritated.