Fishblight Mire Blot Out the Moon, Pull Down the Stars

"Me neither," said Journey, sounding perfectly unconcerned. She was sure they would figure it out — even if it took talking to one of the established packs around here.

"Brave?" she asked, the distinct air of dottiness she carried with her seeming to ramp up to eleven. "Oh, no — he's taller, and he's brown, and he's got green eyes. Not at all like me," she replied, seeming perfectly serious for a moment. But then her gold eyes flashed in mischief and self-satisfaction. See what I did there? "He is like me, except I think he's a little smarter, and more confident. And he doesn't talk so much. I guess maybe he isn't like me, but I think he'd like you."

Why wouldn't he?

Her butt wiggled in the air a moment before she pounced on the frog, catching it between her paws. A moment later, she'd snapped it up and given it a hard shake, tail whisking in idle pleasure.