Otter Creek to be, or not to be

Well that was a hell of a greeting. Not. Blueberry turned an equally disdainful look upon the stranger, though the fear still remained. Call it bravado, she supposed.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? she shot back. Fuck was becoming a favorite word of hers. It had a good mouth-feel. That hissing sound up front, punctuated with a sharp, cracking consonant. FfffuCK.

She waited for the response, shifting her paws, preparing to flee should she need to. Good thing this hadn't happened in the creepy forest, or else she'd be really unsettled.