Hideaway Strath I've gotta a bone, care to pick it with me?

Whrist’s growled and grunted as she continued to rip and tug getting no where but tired and yet more angry in her inability to destroy the bush. Her ears flicked toward the sound filtering from somewhere nearby Her body warmed as his voice washed over her, and she got even angrier at herself for it.

She stilled, though she didn’t let go of the bush, her eyes turned toward him and her lips curled upward. She couldn’t put coherent words together so she narrowed her blue eyes and added a glare to her bared teeth, though the sight had to be slightly comical if not for the anger roiling from her in almost palpable waves.

He had treated her as a lesser, Held her down and had not even offered her a lick to soothe her injured pride, He had held her back from a non-pack wolf, AND He had done that just to impress some other bitch. Some doe eyed white whelp that was also NOT pack, though she had since been placed firmly in the ranks of the pack. That did little but add insult to injury, was it because of her actions that the white witch was now considered a pack member? Her emotions continued to swirl through her in a torrent to which she had no outlet if the stubborn bush was being any indication

She didn’t move, didn’t let go of the brush, she was not about to start speaking now, she didn’t trust her words or herself not to return the favour that had been so bestowed upon her, in front of the pack. Teeth still bared she waited for him to go or stay, though a flicker in her thoughts wondering what his ruff would taste like in her maw rather then this unrelenting shrivelled plant.