Whitefish River the wires got the best of him

It's actually a bit more complicated than green leafy things, but she has no intention of telling him as much. Why don't you figure it out yourself then, Mister Alpha? She leans onto her side, wincing a little at the pressure on her wounds and fixing a slightly haughty stare on the other wolf. The effect is lost somewhat in the dullness of her gaze, and the end result leaves her more akin to a petulant child than anything else. Some part of her knows she's being irrational, stupid even, and as the seconds tick by she considers accepting his help — but then she recalls, hazily, the last time she'd accepted help from a man. And the time before that. And the time before that.
None of them can be trusted.