A skirt of the paw, and the aroma of sage rose into the air to consume her nostrils. Immediately she recoiled from it, nose wrinkling bitterly as the strange scent assaulting the inner flesh with a vengeance and left her reeling. Were it not for the male before her, she might have relinquished her pride and bent her muzzle to hind underpaw. But instead she endured the aromatic presence with a twitch and darted her ears forward as he dared defy her.
“Speak ill of my brethren again,” she snapped the air between them. Her voice never ascended above a whisper. “-and the Creek will see you returned without your tongue.” Nevermind that he bared his insults toward her, she would not allow her brethren and mate to suffer the same. Too much strife had been cause between the neighboring packs to dare allow such a slight to cross the air without consequence. However, she would not allow herself to be called a liar. The very word bristled the fur of her nape and set her lips reeling back with rage. The fevered smile only stretching as her chords quaked with anger yet unleashed.
“We have again found the healer within our own ranks,” though she was tempted, she did not weigh her tongue with an insult. “…and it is for their stock that I protect this plant. If destruction came to it, then it was to keep your lot from attempting to take the full supply.” Admittedly, it was not the grandest plot on part of her mate. His anger had got the better of him that day, and while she had rather he left it be, he was a creature of his own mind doing what he believed would keep his brethren guarded. But it had only served to make them look petty. And now, with the injury that had fallen to the pack, what little they could find of any herb was needed. Better they have the herb and not need it, than be desperate for it and be without it.
Her eyes narrowed just had hard as they were fixed upon the elder male. “Leave them and go.” She growled finally. She did not expect one of the Creek to understand the desperation that had befallen the Vale. |