Moonspear dealing with danger

Hungry for what? he asked, and on that word, bowl she did. But this bowling ball — while traditionally round and black and sporting, at the very least, three holes — was not smooth, but bristling with teeth and claws that sought her nephew's tender flesh.

For little boy meat, she snarled in reply, but by then, her anger had burned out, and any violent action would leave no more than a scratch upon him as she sought — as he predicted — to force him onto his back.

She'd just about run out of breath, anyway; it was just as well the battle turned to a melee.