Porcupine Ridge The hills of Hollywood on fire

A primal fire had sparked in the taut belly of Diane, and it was kindled each time she spent in the presence of the Ridge wolves. It was not the job of Guard faction to protect them—it was everyone's job. She felt this in her spirit, allowing the flagrant emotion to dictate how she moved around here. The mountain, its newness and difference, made it possible for her long stretches to go by where she didn't remember the ocean, the Cove wolves and their decorum, and the violent waves that had destroyed them. She was free to explore a side to herself that had never been discovered... Had never been necessary.

The Beta made a false run at them, Diane instinctively a half step behind him. Her charge a mere soundless show of teeth and fur really, but it served its intended purpose, sending both coyotes banking sharply in either direction, confusion and fear putting one of them east of the wolves and the other on the west of them. Diane backed to Farstep's flank, keeping her shimmering eyes on the insulting, cadaverous female of their two opponents. The sickly yellow eyes of the thin scavenger were filled with a marked uncertainty, afraid to take her gaze off of Diane, but consistently glancing at her mate for direction.

The small seawolf was yet unaware of the desperation behind withering predators. But maybe these coyotes weren't at that point yet, despite them clearly still testing the waters with these wolves. And maybe Diane was about to find out how dangerous starving creatures could be.