Sly Fox Sand Dunes Home has come.

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Some strong language.

The little wolf spoke. 

Ahh. Of course it did. He had just cursed the damned sun and just about every grain of sand across the dunes right in her face.  As if the sound of her voice wasn't an irritant enough, her question alone was enough to perturb any sane wolf.

If I had rabies I wouldn't have half the mind to even answer your outright stupid question, little miss. And you'd be the fucking fool for remaining in bitin' distance. He released an angry puff of air from his nose. No doubt tickling her whiskers. Scowl set firmly on his face as he took a step back to look over the wolf that he was, frankly, towering over.

A tiny, oddly proportioned little wolf. With coat of ash, her thin limbs could easily pass for charred sticks. And a big, stupid smile on her face. Briar's ears turned back sharply, eyes narrowing.

God, could you fucking quit— Briar took in a sharp breath. He was the one who ran up to this strange little thing. Ugh.  He continued with a grumble. —Nevermind. You been in the sun long enough to piss dust too or do you happen to know where water is?