Dragoncrest Cliffs he could hardly speak.

a little smile curled the corners of sobeille’s lips. all mine, den. she murmured through the chewed velveteen fur. she did not wait for protest — she sat down, pared the ear between her outstretched paws, and chewed it with the rough gusto of a hungry dog. it went down her gullet in a matter of seconds, and she savored the way the gristle crackled on the way down.

de rest of it is in de cache, dummy. sobeille informed in the patented tone only a long-suffering older sister could muster. she licked the fleckings of fur and flesh from her whiskers, crossing one paw in front of the other as she looked pointedly at the (dummy) boy who’d refused probably the first — and last — gift he’d ever get from her.

bossy little shit. mebbe i take your leg instead. sobeille leveled him a look that regrettably informed she was serious. dat would be a nice lil treatie.