Whitefish River But I am unsure

Tucked away in Ira’s den, overslept a wild, hateful little imp. He stirred for nothing and no one — besides to accept an offer of food — and, up until now, the foundling had been relatively tame considering. But, little did the residents of Kaistleoki know, the little tyrant was only recuperating.
 
Leshen awoke to the sound of a conspicuous stirring just outside the denmouth and, like a trained guard, the boy vaulted to his feet and fumbled boldly towards the noise. He had to stop suddenly, to close his eyes against the unexpected day-brightness of the outdoors; but he vowed that once he could stop blinking, the one who had caused this disturbance was dead meat.
 
He took one look at the she-wolf sitting on her leader’s doorstep and he rocketed towards her, mouth wide and pearly whites flashing, as he went to give her a warning bite — right on her undefended butt.