Cricket Creek Bog comme un boomerang

Her reaction sends him into uproarious laughter. He expected disgust, though not so outright. Oh, forgive me, cherie! My common tongue is still no good! he manages, gums clicking as his grin stretches seemingly past its physical limits. Oh, what a hoot! What a diversion!

You can turn and run the fuck away from here right now, and never come an inch closer to my packlands, or I can shred you to bits.

As tempting as the "shred to bits" sounds—he'd like to see her try—he'll pass. For now. Self-preservation is in his best interest; winter is coming, after all. Donatien ceases chuckling and shrugs. Your loss, Regent. Au revoir.

He turns on his heel and begins to run, but not before sending a spray of muddy water to sully her beautiful coat. He hopes he at least gets a bite or two to pay for his transgressions.

Right on the ass. Heh, heh!