Coconut Grove You're My Downfall, You're My Muse, My Worst Distraction, My Rhythm And Blues.

Without words, the pale man turned away --  a growl rumbled in her deep chest, and she swatted a harmless paw at him. It was disrespectful to her, vain and dominant proud as she was: her father had always given her a good cuff around the ears if she turned from him in a conversation. 

                 "I won't tell you a damn thing until you look at me."

She couldn't understand how he was feeling, even if she could've read his thoughts. Couldn't imagine giving them away or killing them, either -- those that were not given to Molech would be raised loved and happy, and she would protect them with every fibre of her being, as a mother and father. She had her sister wolves as well, and at least two other litters her own would grow up with. What better of a life could she ask for her and her young? Assuming he'd turned to her, Giana, being the hypocrite she is, turned her head down to lick gently at the squirming bundles, lifting a leg and unintentionally giving Hadraniel an outside view of his children; more accurately, a paw or nose prodding and distending her stomach in alien ways, seemingly active despite the nighttime. 
 
                                                                                          "The Malkaria is both my home and my religion, so to speak. We live in Sun Mote Copse, South-East of here, and worship our God, Molech. You are welcome to join me on the return home -- my leader would see fit to meet you first, but I can't imagine her turning you away, as long as you contribute to the pack."