Deepwood Weald Nose on the grindstone

Huhwhuh? A quick swivel of Wren's head reveals the form of a wolf that had not been there mere seconds ago. She had to blink and bite the inside of her cheek to prove to herself that she wasn't hallucinating. Her lip curls up and reveals a flash of teeth, more out of annoyance than genuine malice. She was too tired for that right now. What-- who the fuck are you?

Coming to a near screeching halt, her ears fly to the sides of her head, wiry fur bristling at the tips and puffing her up, making her appear larger than she already was. Now, Wren had been making an effort to be nice to almost everyone she'd met thus far in these lands, but given the fact that post-meal chemicals were making her fatigue worsen and she desperately needed water and to just sit down, her patience had worn a bit thin. Still, she bit back the threats that wanted so badly to fly from her tongue. She settled on giving the stranger a wary scowl, face tightening and teeth still very clearly visible, gleaming in mother Sun's golden hour. They would bite within good reason, and she made that known with a chuff and a grumble.
Man, you're awfully tiny, she retorts, bunching up her shoulders in a sudden burst of insecurity and a very feeble attempt at making herself smaller. Which was unsuccessful. Wren felt as if she may be almost double the size of the wretched little raven. what's it to yah?