Sawtooth Spire dear god: thanks, if you loved me the vegetables would be extinct

Enter Wylla, returning from the river with her chin still dripping, to see not the peaceful scene she'd left, but Stag hyperventilating in front of the den and the sound of Phaedra's bawling from within.

The charge that followed this sight was purely instinctual. For once, she held no particular ill will toward the wolf she was galloping toward with jaws unhinged, though if Stag knew what was good for him, he'd stay the fuck away for a little while after this. She liked the kid but god damn was he ever an idiot if he thought this was a good idea. For a split second she had to wonder if his brain damage was more deeply rooted than she'd originally thought. What would've been nice and courteous was if the Eisen stopped and realized she had nothing to fear from her packmates, but thinking first wasn't really her forte. Oops.

A guttural snarl was the only warning Stag had before Wylla lunged for his hindquarters. She hoped he had the good sense to run off like a good lad, but if he wasn't snappy about it (or if he'd harmed her baby in some way), he'd be on the receiving end of more than just a warning tap.