Bearclaw Valley this is the last take for the night, understand it's kinda late

There was no reason for him to hear her out, or do anything other than get rid of her. She had wandered into his land as if she belonged there—something so simple yet so problematic—showing blatant disrespect for his authority by doing so. He had every right to get her out of there in whichever way he deemed fit, as far as he was concerned, but something stopped him. Her body language, despite the gleam in her eyes, quelled his aggravation and satisfied his need for respect; it gave her time to speak and plead her case.

“Then speak,” he ordered, more of the distance between stolen in the process. He wanted—needed—to be closer, ready to lash out and correct her should she do anything that displeased him.