Sleeping Dragon the difference in the shades

 
There was almost an immediate change in the way that Freyja held herself once she had set her eyes on Thyri. The stormchaser felt her fur bristle instinctively and she drew her head upward, ears swiveling forward, and hackles rising. Freyja was getting to big for her own good. She was growing, but she had found an ego in her new age, and the youthful feral did not agree with it. She would have found herself capable of turning away from the situation that had been presented, but there was a burning in her gut that would not allow her limbs to carry her away. Instead, she stopped in her trek and turned so that she was positioned in front of the silver-furred sister. Her pale caramel eyes held the crack of lightning within them, and her rigid posture became – somehow – more stiff.  
 
There was an instinctive reaction to peel her lips wayward over her canines. Her ears began to turn back and flatten to her skull, and Thyri's own tail lifted upward. First, she aimed to match Freyja in her posture, but as she drew herself closer, she began to make a point to lift herself higher. She would not bow to the weak girl of the moon.