Horizon Ridge your anger is frightening the sand

In the early morning, Wylla quit the strand for a number of reasons. Primarily it was that she felt weird and out of place in her own home, like she was unwelcome. That very well could be the case, with how often her so-called followers defied her. With each passing day, Wylla felt her confidence whisked away, leaving her self-conscious and yearning to give up instead. They don't respect you because they hate you, whispered the darkness in her skull, they don't even want you there.
So, seeking a reprieve from both her thoughts and the suffocating sense of being in a place she felt unwanted, Wylla headed down the coast. She oft wandered out this way, and it usually ended in violence when she did. She was expecting it, even, though she was still injured from her last encounter with Raptor. So when she spotted someone dark-furred working their way toward the crumbled ridge that she was picking her way across, Wylla stiffened and lifted her head with a cautioning growl.
She rather doubted that Raptor would attack her again like he had, but she couldn't be too careful. Only upon much closer inspection, with squinted eyes and a craned head, did Wylla realize that this wasn't Raptor. Completely wrong markings, and completely wrong shape, too. Feeling both embarrassed of her mistake and disgruntled that she couldn't pound his ass into the dirt this time, Wylla tossed back her raven ears and called loudly, "sorry, you looked a bit like some jerk-ass that likes to hang out on the beach. Didn't mean t'growl at you."