Bearclaw Valley i'm never finished answering to the dead

Wardruna barely spares the newcomer much attention as the female tumbles to the dirt beneath him. She doesn’t like it and he is met with retaliation in the snap of her teeth. A snarl rumbles in his chest as his teeth flash, snapping at her threateningly in return. He is quick to stand, his lips curling back from his teeth as his tail lashes furiously against his hocks only to recoil back with unbidden indignation as she spits words at him in return ( it is probably a good thing that he does not know her word ‘twat’ and that she has insulted him ); but he manages a bitter snort at her deduction as to why he’s angry. She is the instigator in this whole situation and it had little to do with where he was walking but nevertheless: his anger isn’t so much about almost getting trampled. “You chased off the herd I was tracking for my pack on our hunting grounds.” And now that herd was a lost cause. He wasn’t going to chase it all through the Teekons when he doubts that the wolves of Easthollow are gong to travel further than a neighboring territory for their hunts. “For what?” Wardruna inquires sharply, wanting to know what she got out of it. Perhaps the three of them could have taken one down, each to take their owns share, if she hadn’t scared them off but the damage was already done. Their starvation did not impact him in any shape or form and he didn’t care whether they went hungry or not but he did care about his reputation in Easthollow and his duty to the pack. Tracking is a big, fat demotion from Commander of Warriors but at least he could rely on it being useful. At the moment, Wardruna didn’t even have that; so it is a fair assumption that the northerner thinks his anger is justified regardless of how the other two feel about it.