Blackfeather Woods i blew a bad man away, today

the nightcub withdrew along the snowy buttress of relmyna's flank, her gaze resting on the small thing that was neither squirrel nor weasel nor wolf; she looked to her mother expectantly, heavily -- a blade of outrage snaring her snubbed muzzle as the cat nicked off her mother's stone and played with it as if it were some idle, throw-away toy.

she growled instinctively, protective of the rock of tongues for reasons beyond her own fragile comprehension. her mother strode forward in the manner of a firm predator, astara complemented her advancement with her own shuffling approach. lowering her muzzle she felt a growl fuse in her throat, and her quilled tail lifted behind her.