Lost Creek Hollow if i gotta take the high road i’m rollin’

On other days, Arbiter had enjoyed toying with trespassers -- make them work off the err of their ways -- but the howl set things in an entirely different light.  With one of her children nearby, she was no longer willing to play.  Sure, the trio were large enough that they'd outsize a fair number of wolves, but they were still children and they were hers.  Oh, and there was also the whole fact there was nobody named Liffey here any more to tell her not to do her worst. Uh oh.

Before this happened, she'd been trying to shape Spook up so he could catch up with some of his siblings' training so they could spar, but that got dropped like a hot potato and she sprinted towards Pike's location.  The poor kid was left gawking in confusion, but he'd probably figure it out later.  She didn't give too much warning on her approach, but since a large wolf barreling through the underbrush like a rocket powered cannonball wasn't exactly going to be silent, was it really needed?  

Popping onto the scene, there was a slight interruption in her stride as she passed Pike and looked for the target.  Path adjusted, she went forward at top speed towards the retreating figure.  She was a picture of hostility, ears forward, lips peeled back, fur on end, tail up, the whole nine yards, and she meant business.  In all honesty she didn't care what part of him she sank her teeth into, she was here for her pound of flesh for his indiscretion.  She asked no questions, simply made a single demand: surrender in one form or another. Sure, he could try to make her stop and try to appeal to pity and try to keep his hide whole, but there were no promises that would work and he had only a few fleeting seconds to do so if he stopped and chose that path.  This was Arbiter after all.