i ate his liver

The opposing trio were quiet, as were the two men who stood at her sides. It was Ptarmigan that broke the silence first with the rumbling of a wolf's disapproval in her throat, for these wolves had not bowed their heads and lowered their tails as they ought to have. While they had not been assembled in order of hierarchy at the time, the would-be ruler of the pack quickly became evident as the elder swept aside to allow the pale female the forefront. Ptarmigan locked eyes with Cara without a second thought for the consequences of doing so.

The Ouroboros wolves replied in different ways—the crusty one called her a whore, while the female dribbled out sickeningly sweet sarcasm. The dark-haired male remained silent throughout the whole thing, though a quick glance at him revealed that it was possible he was too absorbed in sizing up Andrus. Viggo's tail brushed her own midair.

She didn't deign to return their sarcasm. She'd already said what she'd wanted to say, giving them the opportunity to submit to her claim. None of them did. The female made a demand, which Ptarmigan met with a firm, no. It is my right. Without another word she stepped forward, thrusting out her chest and pricking her ears brazenly forward. Her slender snout dove down to cover her throat. She did not snarl or even draw her lips back, but rather, leveled a constant stare on the competing female, enough to fully state her intent to drive the other out of her rightful position. Her lips formed a thin line that was firmly held and very self-assured, telling them she had no intention of causing unnecessary harm in her scuffle for the crown, but would assert her absolute authority if she had to. It was a perfectly ritualized challenging stance.