Swiftcurrent Creek dissect me with this blunt little tool

Tyrande faltered for a second, remembering where she was. Unfortunately for her, she had been so angry, her hackles had risen so far as to make her look almost twice her size. Reluctantly, she slowly lowered into submission, her once warm, violet-flecked, soft blue eyes now like lightning as they glared up at the old wolf. The submission ritual looked almost painful for her. Her mouth opened, as if she was about to retaliate, but thought better of it and simply glared up at him, wishing bitterly that she had the strength and courage to claw at him for putting her through this.

She suddenly began to blink back tears. No! she told herself, Don't you dare show weakness to him! Her eyes were watering as she continued to stare up at him acussingly, as thoughts of anger and pain and resentment tumbled around in her head. She felt as if she'd never understand these wolves and their high-and-mighty ways, looking down on wolves that were different from them... To her, it seems almost sickening.

And yet... And yet... she felt a twinge of respect for them, how they trusted one another, how they worked together to protect their family and their way of life. She couldn't help but admire them. Even this fleabag in front of her, she held a bit of respect for, the way he carried himself, even if he was a lunatic. She admired his strength, intellect...

Maybe theirs more to pack life than just doing others dirty work to get another meal...