Golden Glade One summer day

Crowfeather did not like being called a fool and certainly not from a man he had never seen tail nor hair of before in his life. This discomfort was displayed readily in the swinging of his dark ears, laying flat on his cap in an insulted manner.

Well- I-

But before he could manage a sputtering response, another figure appeared who carried the same fragrance as the bold man. Crowfeather quavered in his place, fearful that he had managed to cross into claimed land.

The female licked her lips, teeth glinting, and the dark runaway was filled with an indescribable frustration.

Listen here, there’s no scent of claim in these woods. I can’t be intruding… I can’t be… he mustered with an indignant but anxious stare at the frightening male across from him.