Whitewater Gorge Thorn bush

You're hunting plants then. He quipped with a surprising amount of humor. He had not seen another face in so long; of course, that was due to his own wayward nature. Nonetheless, a wolf was a wolf.

And this wolf had a bit of an attitude. He raised a brow to the little she-wolf. The matter-of-fact manner in which she spoke pressing a razor's edge upon his good will. He had not said anything to offend her, had he?

There is a twitch of his ear as he pressed close to the edge of the ravine. The divide in the earth was not so wide here. He could see for himself what had her in a tizzy if he jumped over. He refrained from this action for now. They were still strangers, and that was a recipe to make an enemy.

So Briar waited on his side of the ravine. His gaze cast downwards a moment before lifting to her again. No need to apologize. Just smelled blood. The flowers you're picking have thorns or something?