The Tangle pray for the wicked on the weekend

Phoenix watched in pure astonishment as the girl rolled over. Repelled, he drew back, looking as if a strong gust had just creased him. Thoroughly bewildered, the yearling struggled to save face. "Hey—wh-what are you—" He went to command her to stop groveling and be evil so he could hurt her and feel good about it, but she cut him off with a plea—and tacked on a hurtful bully! to go with—and Phoenix was effectively cowed.

He stood frozen as she batted at him, and then—whining all the while—crawled towards him submissively. A trick! ...Right? On edge and bristling in a way that made him look more porcupine than wolf, Phoenix extended his muzzle towards her and sniffed. She smelled like... a pack, he thought. Sort of dusty, like plains, but mostly she smelled of this desolate place. Her energy was genuine, however, and Phoenix felt his paranoia shift to a mild defensiveness as her tongue grazed his chin. Oh, how he missed such closeness.

He stepped back from her. "Stop that," he huffed. "You got on another wolf's skin. You're obviously evil, no introductions needed."