Witch's Marsh Don't you remember when you were young, and you wanted to set the world on fire?

Mae was glancing around to be sure she hadn't missed any signs of pursuit when the man shouted at her. She flinched. What the hell? She rose from her crouch with hackles bristling, ears flat atop her skull.

He was definitely being followed — or had been before. Unless his pursuer was very slow? Mae didn't care either way.

Pick another direction, asshole. My pack's that way, She spat, lips peeling back to show her teeth. He was big and looked mean, but Mae liked to think she could be pretty mean, too. Particularly when her pack's security was at stake.