Shadow Mountain zoka

there was hatred in the younger wolf, a bleakening reach of pain underneath it. heda only knew this because it flared too in her breast: loathing for god and confusion by the very earth over which he had made her steward.
slowly and with a dignity she truly did not feel, the widow stood. "you don't know any women, that's why you're calling me a witch." she was offended despite the moment, and stepped past the brash brute, not turning her back as her golden eyes remained balefully watchful upon his hard face.