He was a vindictive little fool, spitting words of venom, accusations that foundered the moment they were birthed into earshot. With each passing word, Hatshepsut was comforted by her attraction to Njal's strength, and her support of his decision to leave the Creek was solidified. If such beasts as the one before her carried sway in the ranks, perhaps it was safer that he relocated his wife and family quite far away.
Perhaps Njal was one of those who took male lovers; perhaps this shadow-wolf was one such, and, bitterly spurned, now took up jaw against him. Yet the Egyptian had not received such a sentiment from the gold-eyed man when they had spoken — he was hale, scarred, utterly masculine. The antithesis of Thutmose, which amused her to no end.
Deliberately, she lifted a forepaw to her lips and began to clean the clinging loam from her toes. Upon the forefront of her mind was the desire to bait the male, to enrage him, but Hatshepsut knew such words would be foolhardy; she was not one to risk injury without a purpose. Quietly, she preened herself and ignored the ravings of the Creek brute.
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