Blackfeather Woods she's the giggle at a funeral

it frustrated her to no end that this man thought himself above her. they were meant to be equals; she was above the women she encountered, and he above the fellow men of his world. yet there was no undoing the clamp of his grip at her neck, or the length of time he held her there in supplication.

once released she gave a huff, and her ears were pivoted back. zharille snaked forward with a defiant reach of her snout towards his chin as if to snap at him, but instead she gave a few licks there, further sign she understood and accepted - marginally.

it was enough to know there was strength in these woods. she would not linger now; defeated in a way, zharille would withdraw with her tail almost tucked, and put the wall of fallen tree between them, then be gone among the trees.

when her time came, she knew where to find him.