Otter Creek I don't want to run

Black Shuck was no stranger to being approached by other wolves, but the direct and brisk manner in which Ketzia came was enough to set any wolf on edge. He was quick to lift his dripping muzzle from the river and turn to face her head-on, ears twin spears over his head as a hardened gaze met hers in a silent challenge. Already the wasting muscles beneath his coat had shifted, preparing him to twist away or lunge forward if she made such moves a necessity.

Ketzia would find, if she sought a fight, that Black Shuck would allow her no advantage in the form of reaching his flanks or hindquarters. His body was a coiled spring as he bared his teeth in a silent warning, a wordless communication that the way she came at him was unwelcome and unwarranted, perceived as a possible threat, and he would defend himself if she pressed the issue. Can I help you? he asked, his voice cutting over the bubbling of the river in a rough snap.