Golden Glade Territorial Pissings (All of Your Base are Belong to Us)

Laurel looked at Dagfinn as he talked to her, a little surprised that he would notice her at all, head tilted in question. Then she nodded, feeling frightened by the prospect of fighting, especially for a family and a home she felt so little for these days. She tried really hard, but she could see how they looked at her, and it didn't do any to make her feel better.

Ears perked to look at the strangers in front of them as Reek demanded they give up their home. Laurel was frightened by him, too, by the cold, heartless tone to his voice, by how easily he was putting other wolves out of their homes. He didn't care for them, only for the survival of his own family. She was much alike to him, she realised in that moment, in so many ways. Laurel only cared for her own hide, too. That was why she didn't care for this place or for the wolves who stood beside her. She didn't want to get hurt again, so she didn't want to fight. She had never before realised that she was so much like her father, always feeling like an alien that was so very different from them all.

She glanced at Dagfinn briefly before turning her youthful eyes back onto the other wolves; the enemies. There were no snarls or intimidations from her side, only the gloomy look of the teen who didn't wish to be here. Her odds might be better if she would look intimidating, she thought, but she just couldn't bring herself to it.