Blackbeak Bluff don’t do it, don’t give it up

Her small cries of protest were largely ignore by the burly male — his focus was entirely on spiriting this girl to safety, with all four of her tiny feet planted firmly on solid earth. It took a larger effort than he had previously assumed, having dove right into the task of plucking her from the promontory’s razor-sharp edge, and a guttural sound that denounced effort leaked from between his jaws where they grasped at her thin pelt. 

Within seconds, the girl was able to claw her way back to the safety of ground and Komodo backpedaled to immediately allow for her personal space. It was something women often needed, especially when having just dealt with a life-threatening experience. The brute’s heart too beat something furious, and he waited a moment to catch his breath and still his quick-moving pulse before addressing her demand for information.
 
“Look-ee here, chickadee,” the earthstalker burled, looking down his muzzle at the tawny-toned shewolf. A tiny thing, she was, and seemingly untrustworthy of his motives — and, honestly, she probably should be. Komodo was no saint, despite his penchant for coming to the rescue. “Were yah na’ in need uh’some assistance?” A heavy paw was placed before the other, drawing nearer.  “Ah ain’t keen on seein’ uh’ nice lady vanish, righ’ fur my very eyes.”