Ankyra Sound I ain't ever had a type, having a type takes two

The voice rang out at the exact moment that Wylla's eyes clapped on the black-furred wolf as she turned from the sea, and both in tandem put her immediately on edge. Why was he standing there like that? What did he want with her? Similar suspicions swept through her mind in an instant, just long enough for her to shove her ears forward over her brow and rumble a quiet growl at him.

Time away certainly hadn't made her any friendlier. In fact, being surrounded by just family had likely made Wylla even more of a bitch, considering every single one of them were bitches and needled each other constantly. Misery loves company and Wylla had a lot of that.

What do you want? she asked in a voice that snapped through the space between them. Even the ever-present roar of the ocean seemed momentarily hushed by the force behind that delivery; this was Wylla in her element, after all.