Bonesplinter Ravine Lost in translation

Rye snarled as the last wolf backed away, anger seeped into his blood and straight down into his bones. There was nothing stopping him from fighting until his very last breath. All the fibers in his body enboldened him like never before but seemingly, like a ray of sunshine peircing through a foggy meadow, Effies' presence reminded him it was not only his life on the line. For now, Rye would remain defensive. 

Their questions were expected, although Rye was unsure he could hold his tongue from speaking expletives, there was quite a few unique words that needed a chance to use. "Somewhere around here was our home!" He seethed, "But I can see rats have moved in." He said between snarls and growls. His fur was standing on its ends, straighter than the tall pine trees and superficially as sharp as porcupine needles. Every inch of him was on high alert but the status was fading the longer he stood, his wound dripped the precious crimson he needed to stay fit and his body was beginning to see - and feel - other priorities.