Phoenix Maplewood lady of apples

She came after him, her simpering tone droning on. He felt he had done his best to remove himself from a situation he found most unpleasant, but she insisted on shoving it down his throat instead of letting him leave. That did not sit well with the Tartok wolf, and he could feel the pressure building. When she spoke the question, he stopped, spun around to face her, and lifted his lips to bare his teeth. A growl rumbled in the back of his throat, and his eyes bore into hers. His tail lifted straight behind him, and the fur along his spine ruffled. His message was as clear as day.