Otter Creek the good, the bad, and the dirty

His expression changes, and it hits her like a slap to the face. Her face quickly grows hot with her own anger at the disgust she thinks she hears in his voice, the judgment — as if he has any right to judge her. Her, his savior, the only one who had chosen to waste her own energy on the pathetic lump of wolf trapped under a hunk of wood. But she knows she can't say that, not to his face; she can only defend herself. I'm a thief, Eastwood. You didn't know that? Disdain colors her tone.
I've been a thief all my life. I was trained from puphood to take what others are too weak or stupid to defend. We are not weak. We're not stupid. That's why it won't happen to us — and why I won't get caught. It's simple, really; it's survival of the fittest. The oldest law of life, the only one that holds any weight in the cruel wilds. She pauses a moment, then adds: And if their pups are going hungry, the blame is theirs alone. They ought to have made sure they could care for their spawn before popping them out.