Bearclaw Valley antlermoon

Yellowed fangs grabbed Abel and dragged him to his feet and just as Æsilfír dried in to snap at Merrick, she was warded off by a hefty shove of his shoulder. His jaws clicked far too close to her ear for comfort as she side-stepped, but did not completely yield. 

She stood, feet squared, head lowered and teeth bared. In that line eye she saw no ounce of wanting, and that rejection spurned her. If she could not have what she wanted, then he could not either.

”That doesn’t make them yours. He is my charge,” She snarled in response. Blood meant very little to her, and she doubted it would save the children from harm, either, considering that he had it out for their mother. Still, this was Merrick’s pack. Her growls quieted a bit. ”What do you want with him?” She asked. 

She glanced to Abel, and then back to Merrick. Wherever the boy went, she would go too.