Otter Creek To Float on Your Back

She rolled her eyes in such an exaggerated fashion she thought she could feel something grinding in her skull. She was aware that wolves in these Western parts thought she had an accent, but she hadn't expected for her lips to be difficult to read as well. She huffed a sigh and opened her mouth so that she could try again but she was cut off by the sudden intrusion of a scruffy, unkempt stranger who chhose that moment to interrupt and frighten the otters away. 

She spoke something that sounded like nonsense to Æesilfír, before ducking her head under the water and emerging again, her shocked gaze finally locking with surprise onto Æsilfír's murderous glare. She tempered her gaze to a simmering sizzle when the other attempted to diffuse the tension. 

"Woz," She complained, compelled to point out that the opportunity to hunt the otters was now something that belonged in the past tense. She felt a bit offended that he felt compelled to move to the female's side. What did he think she was going to do, pick a fight when she was clearly outnumbered? Ridiculous. She sat up stiffly, now that she wasn't stalking prey anymore. 

His offer might have appeased a wiser wolf. "Sport?" She snorted. "Yer friend here's aready scared 'em off, denna what kinda sport y'think that is, but it's over naew so what odds." She accused, fishing for an apology she felt she deserved.