Swiftcurrent Creek And curiosity

She flinched at the word 'sweetling.'

The last time it had been spoken, she'd been grabbed, carried, and dumped in a den. Reflexively, her ears flattened and she bared her teeth in an ungainly grimace, as if triggered by the offering of sympathy. Any limb that came within reach would earn a snap, but she did not necessarily pull away. Her downy hackles bristled, when she felt another little ripple of discontent gurgle in her stomach. 

An intrusive thought popped into her mind, and as she was already overwhelmed and anxious, she could do nothing to stop it. Without a second thought she lunged for the still-warm pile of vomit and began to wolf it back down.