Otter Creek dancing with demons.

If you didn't have the nose of a wolf, you probably wouldn't have known it was a wolf at all behind the cloud of dirt being kicked up out of the little den. In fact, you probably would've thought it was a badger or a wolverine, based on the snarls that echoed out from the deep. The cause of the dirt cloud however, was not a badger, nor a wolverine. It was a wolf. The snarls, though, those were definitely badger. Or wolverine.

The silver pelted Blackthorn stepped back from the den mouth to catch her breath. She shook herself vigously, waving the black streak along her spine till it wriggled like a snake and sent specks of dirt flying into the air. Finally, Fin plopped onto her haunches to admire her work. The mouth of the den was a good three times the size it had been, and she had gotten a couple feet into the tunnel. Piles of dirt and brambles were everywhere (who builds a den in a thistle thicket, I ask you?) The beast within continued to rumble anxiously even though she had stepped back. The sound made her grin.

"Settle down, little buddy," Finley cooed sweetly, "How many times do I have to tell you--I'm not going to hurt you." The resounding snarl that thundered back at her gave her cause to think that perhaps the critter didn't believe her. It made her laugh and prance forward to bow into a playful stance at the mouth of the den. "You can't hide in there forever... Just come out and play and I swear on my honor as a Blackthorn, I will do no more damage to your den."

Another snarl was her response. She gave a sigh and stood up to pace slowly back and forth before the mouth of the den, furrowing her brow as her grin faded to an inquisitive smirk. "I will get you, little buddy... You WILL play with me..." They always came out to play, eventually...