Bearclaw Valley peccato meo munda me

Bernadette's tumble and subsequent stillness appeased Aventus enough that he merely stood over her, growling low in his throat, and did not attack. For the moment, Cyril was forgotten. It wouldn't have mattered who Bernadette hurled her insults at; even a lowly wolf pup stood higher in the Bruin-jaw's estimation than this mutant his father had taken into their ranks on appearances alone.

Who are you to call anyone irrelevant? he boomed in her face, lowering his nose toward hers so that their whiskers brushed in the minimal space between. You take the food we hunt to fill your fat little gut. You contribute nothing in return for being permitted to carry young and take our resources. And you have the audacity to call anyone irrelevant?

The irrelevant one is you, Bloodstain, he snapped in her face, rising just a little. The thought of Arielle and the pups she carried flashed through his mind, and on its heels, a hot flash of indignation that they would waste their hard-won resources on Bernadette's pups. There were not so many of them to hunt. Not so much prey to go around. Those resources should go to his children, his wolves. Give me one good reason you're not more useful to me as food.