Men's hatred has made me this way

It was l'enfant terrible's response to her last remark that made the black wolf calm down a little. He seemed tired and annoyed with her bothering him. The young boy was looking eagerly at the cave entrance, wanting sleep. Snorting, she let her tail wave like a pendulant. She would not keep insulting him, but she would keep him from sleep a bit longer. A punishment for being such a cul, if you will.

She decided to pester him with a question that has been on her mind for a while: his parentage. Snorting, she "Iz Madame Jinx your mother? And zat older white wolf, iz 'e your father?" She knew that Madame Jinx and the ragged wolf were close, from the meeting in the cave, to seeing them occasionally romping through the forest in bliss. The French-Canadian wondered if their relationship had gone on long enough to garner a son, and such a spoiled one at that. But she could not imagine Madame Jinx being much of a mother.