Blackfeather Woods we are animal hungry down to our delicate bones

CONGRATS ON 500!! beeg milestone!!

astara crowed in delight, of course, between clenched teeth and soft velvety ear: she had hit her mark, of her own skill's volition, thank-you-very-much. she wouldn't have approved of wintersbane's nickname of her, but as it was, she would probably never learn it -- for with a heave and a snap suddenly all her fun was over because somebody didn't like his ears being munched.

she slipped from his thick fur with a rather indolent expression; frankly, it was the kind of expression you got from a cat when you chased it off of a counter -- cold and very much resentful in a 'fuck-you-human-i'm-gonna-go-in-the-litterbox-now-and-then-traipse-all-over-your-counter-while-you're-asleep' kind of way.

she sighed a long and tired sigh after delivering such a crippling look, and then spied a twig not too far from where she assumed wintersbane had lost his good sense of humor (nevermind that he had been PERFECTLY tolerant of her shenanigans and she was the little turd, not him). pouncing upon it, astara gave the stick a good tug -- it didn't feel as good as an ear, but it was something.