Otter Creek make a fist and close your eyes

The man before her had changed. He was hard-hearted to her now, not as malleable as she had once liked, and there was no connection between them. His rumble was met with a cold stare, a flash of her front teeth and the tip of her tongue slipping between, snake-like. Zharille knew if she started from the bottom it would be a matter of time before she'd earned her place back — that it was the very law she had tried to instill within the lake pack from the start — but it infuriated her to see it used against her.

She was healthy and strong, and she knew she could fight her way up. She could easily show those younger, weaker women of Khaba's collection what a real woman could do. The fact of the matter was, Zharille's pride forbid her from being relegated so low, regardless.

Her flash of teeth became a grimace; but she did not lash out, she stepped back. Her posture remained proud and each step was stiff, as she now saw Khaba as a threat. He was now another obstacle. She had fought him before he held his power, and they were evenly matched. This would take cunning rather than the brawn that Zharille was used to.

The woman snapped her teeth, a decisive no.

But she would return to the lake, soon, and take what was her's.