Overture Downs Rational

Wisteria couldn't help the wince that shuddered through her when Treason spun around, but the black-capped she-wolf didn't seem hostile. That assumption was Wisp's first mistake. Her turquoise eyes flicked from Treason's bright blues to the hare and back, betraying her lack of knowledge on proper body language etiquette. Any wolf with half a brain learned at a young age that eye contact was a no-no, as had she, but such etiquette had failed to matter to her for so long that she easily forgot herself.

So she didn't drop her eyes from Treason's even as she began to pick forward with low, swooping steps, as if she thought she could get close and snatch the rabbit right away. That was impossible and she knew it, but in that moment hers was the slinking gait of a sly coyote rather than a noble wolf. The only thing to suggest she wasn't about to try her luck was the rasping warble of, please, that fell from her parted lips.