Bearclaw Valley Where’s the fire? What’s the hurry about?

ameline spoke. ancelin arrested his headlong run with a snort, a growl.
but he paced to one side now, stilling to stand as a splotched shadow in the presence of his mate.
she would question. he stood in preparation to be her man-at-arms if this slithering otter of a wolf tried to approach into the meadowland nearest their valley.
why did everyone keep trying them? damned if he knew.