Blackfeather Woods ɪᴛ ғᴇᴇʟs ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ʙɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ

He is close, too close. Her hackles prickle warily, but she ignores him, eating as if nothing were remotely wrong. She does not stop when he speaks, but her skin prickles and her gaze burns with cold poison, hating this boy for merely knowing these things about her. She wants to leap at him, hurt him, but settles for finishing the rabbit before staring at him, gaze full of angry intensity. "Correction. I have a dead father, two dead brothers, and a mother,"  she states blandly, not knowing if her father is truly dead, nor does she know about her brothers, but the moment they left her life by choice or accident, they were dead to her. 

" Cowards hide behind words. Whatever the hell you're trying to say, I don't particularly care." Another lie, for she did care; she might have wanted to leave the rest of her family in the past; and hardly cared about them, but her mother seemed so ethereal, so light, and she did not want for her to become entangled in this mess, no matter how much she longed to see her again. Her mind hinted at potentials for what this wolf had to say; though she focused on retaining her perfect stillness, not wanting to feel any interest in his words.