Otter Creek i'd rather you did not turn your skunk bath into a giant cocktail

There was another she-wolf present, speaking words that beckoned one ear to swivel, but Ramsay's gaze remain fixed on the one who threatened his brother. It roved over her wood-wrought pelt, tipped with accents of cinnamon and umber, and came to rest squarely on her grey-blue eyes. There was something uncomfortable about it, something innate that called for him to avert his eyes, but he leveled it instead, ignoring his instinct. She was an adult, but she was no superior of his.

Even when she began to advance, sending Ramsay's heart lurching into his throat—there was a significant size difference and age difference and the halfling understood a predator when he saw one—he held his ground, if only for Euron's sake. His legs trembled under his shortened barrel, fit to buckle, and he struggled to maintain a firm stare when hers grew hungrier by the moment. But no matter what happened, this was one thing Ramsay would always stand by: as long as he was there, no one would lay harm to his litter mates. They were his world. He would take it all in lieu of them, no matter how badly it hurt him.

It didn't come to that. Euron's voice rang out beside him, breaking his trance, and the dwarf needed no further coaxing. With a baying sound that came unbidden to his lips, pulled forth as a compulsive call to arms against an enemy alien, he spun around in the nick of time and fled back into the safety of the woods.