Blackfeather Woods You were both born to be kings

Her ears twitched at the sounds of people outside, and a low rumble left her throat. Not this again. She had had enough of this. What was wrong with these wolves? What did they think was wrong about her? Were they here to kill or to argue? Or just simply to hate? Malice had no clue. She heard the hateful voice of Damien, and couldn't help but to let a sentence slip. You don't belong so near to our children, Damien... She spoke softly yet clear, still tired from the eventful morning. Finally a fire was burning in her heart again, a fire that had burned as she killed her own mother. No one would touch her little boys, no one. Not even the womanslapper Damien. Next came the voice of Cicero, and perhaps his words would be the kindest she could get out of the mob. Sure, it was no sweet goodnight or anything, but at least it was something that showed he had not followed the hostile actions of the rest. Sort of.

She could hear, almost feel in the air, that there were more beings outside the den, and sighed a disappointed sigh as Burke got up. She couldn't do anything, only silently hate on the mob that had gathered on the birthday of her first litter. Happy birthday, little ones. 

She listened to what was going outside, curling tighter around her two boys, nudging them softly to comfort them. Especially the lighter one was snuggled closely to her, for if the stronger one didn't survive, the smaller one couldn't also. Shhh... No one will hurt you, I promise... She whispered to the two of them, giving them both a few licks on their tiny little bodies. They were her main priority now. She knew she couldn't leave them be, they would freeze to death, and she knew the rest probably knew as well. She was defenseless- Burke was on his own on this one. Oh, how she hated the feeling of not being capable of helping the man that had blessed her with these small blobs.