Frostfire Ridge she wears the smell of blood and death like perfume

An echo from whelphood and those intermittent hours of tug-o-war with her litter-mates tampered with her productivity briefly, and Lusca issued a petite growl, slinging her head to and fro with the instinct to redeem the branch. 

But as the other black female came to a head on the incline and pancaked on the ground, Lusca scooted backwards and loosed her clutch on the branch, dumping it at their toes. ”No prob.” She responded simply, flicking her ear dismissively, then added with a jocose smirk, ”just doing what I can to lessen my karmic retribution.”