Stavanger Bay But we're prepared and the mood is set

Ptarmigan imagined a giant, glowing, golden proclamation of Victory! sprang up between the two females as Junior stumbled away with an angry red streak on her face. Ptarm parted her jaws, licking at the tooth that had snagged the pup's flesh, and snorting when Junior called her a bad bitch. “You bet I am,” she jeered, completely forgetting that this minor strike against a wolf less than an eighth of her age was hardly boss ass bitch material.

With her ego stoked, the lone wolf peacocked on the spot with the straightening of her posture into one of dominance, but it appeared that Junior wasn't done yet. The child launched herself again, thankfully snapping the skin just below Ptarmigan's vulnerable throat thanks to her own posturing and getting another firm grip. “Get off!” snarled the lone wolf, who suddenly felt like the situation wasn't as funny now that the cub was much closer to a sensitive area.

She shook herself violently, hoping to dislodge the little shit eater so she could flee the scene without having her throat pulled out in the process. The child had yet to call for help, which was the only reason the Endore wasn't yet being dragged into the pack's dungeons by her tail... But she knew better than to stick around now that she could tell the kid actually was trying to do some real damage.