Moonspear But it's fun to fantasize

A snarl wretched his face into an angry mask, she flinched. However, his anger disapated, and she did not move from her stance but relaxed the slightest with relief. Heart hammering, and knowing that if she were to push him further his teeth would snap, perhaps on her flesh, she relented. She would have to be more careful, she reasoned, more thrall-like. 

And so she molded her expression into that of docile subservence, or as close a semblance as she could master. She sunk low as words cold and bitter leaked from his mouth, and she answered in as even voice she could manage, though it still trembled from fear. "It is healing, sir. I can hunt in two weeks, at earliest, though I can walk fairly well in one, I think"