Bearclaw Valley and i will rejoice, and be glad for it

indra was still roiling, still bitterly festering like some turbulent sea. xan's concern did very little to slake the sharp fury, it only served to funnel it. was he really concerned for her and laurel? or was his concern for that stupid, wordless wolf?  she wondered if she was misinterpreting the concern on his face as concern for both parties -- what if he was worried more for the mute wolf? 

indra's gaze raked across him as she tried to decipher from his features which it was, but she was no emotional savant -- his eyes betrayed nothing. his expression looked genuine.  his pale features sharply contrasted her own -- indra had no concern for anything but vengeance. she might have spent her entire life as a doormat, but watching laurel be disrespected -- and then accosted -- stirred an ugly sense of bitter injustice in the girl.

"they fought. laurel won." her voice was clipped, as if her anger choked any faculty she had responsible for coherent speech. she turned to xan and gave him a grave look, anger clouding her expression: "whatever that bitch's name is - she's lucky her friend was there to stop me. i told her to stand down and she ignored me - and then her friend came." her tone grew progressively dark, and her inflection slowed to a sinister crawl: "you and i know what happens to the wolf that challenges its superior." she was referring then to redirected pack aggression -- in her eyes, the wolf was lucky she was even alive.