Fox's Glade Impulse

Æsilfír wanted very little to do with other females, presently, but given the fact that the one who approached was not in hear and was from Ursus, she didn’t immediately lunge to chase her off. 

They weren’t close; I’m fact, Ash hadn’t spent much time getting to know her packmates following the raid, as she’d been minding young Abel, and preferred to keep to herself anyway. But she’d seen the odd-looking wolf before. All she could do was trust in Merrick’s judgement. While Æsilfír thought the female’s lions were brutish and unfortunate, Merrick had approved of her so she’d abide by his decision. 

She secretly wondered if the female was really fat, or if she was all fur. What good protection she’d have from teeth, with a coat that thick. There was no way Ash could sink her teeth through fur that thick, she thought, not without a lot of effort. So there was some advantage to whatever genetic mutation it was Bernadette had that made her look that way. 

She seemed to see fit to warn Æsilfír from seeking what she needed from the men of the pack. True, one was taken, one was widowed, and the other she knew very little. It frustrated her that she also didn’t really care, she simply had needs to fulfill. Maybe her standards shouldn’t have been so low.

”Hard te find a good man anywhere anyway, nowadays,” She said ruefully. ”Woz hopin’ I could draw a few in. Pit ‘em against each h’odder, pick the fittest of ‘em. Get a bet of a show before I get my kicks meself, y’know.” She said with a light cackle.