Firefly Glen Story; two.

Every wolf Mira had ever fought had been a child, or an adult who was gentle with her because of her age. Now, in the face of someone who would stop at nothing to get her, Mira was surprised by the dodge. The other mother excused the strike as accident, but Mira doubted this when she was snatched by the scruff. It felt so strange and wrong to have this stranger call her daughter.

Mira was an Ostrega, for God's sake- not this bitch's poor spawn. 

She thrashed violently when grabbed, lifted paws reaching for the ground while she shook like a living tornado. But nature engineered children so that they might be carried well by their mothers, even when throwing a fit. This was no mother, but nature treated her as if she was, giving her a good grip on the nape. Wiggling only hurt the stretched skin, but the serpent was relentless as she tried, and failed, to free herself.