The Wall Toome

She knew his kind, the ploys they favored. Onl Wide Fang looking to warm his bed furs would make such an offer.
Her lips would not yield their snarl until his dark figure had turned and fallen away from view. She spits again, this time on the slick rock at her feet. The taste of him bitters the air still. In nursing her own pride, she wouldn't give his a chance.
With a sharp exhale Ayovi heaves herself upright, clinging to the jagged escarpments, blunt claws just managing to find purchase to make a clumsy ascent. It is painful, and the wind seems to make a mockery, tugging at her tail, biting into ears. Almost at once her muscles burn like wildfire, spreading up each leg and singeing the facets of spine. Fireflies gather in the corners of her eyes as grunts of effort are carried off in the wind. By the time she finds a final foothold and breaches a gentle slope the ground beneath concedes to weariness. Ayovi had never known this exhaustion.
No choice but to press on, hunger a singular, ravaging ache. Her paws take to the trailhead where not so far in advance strides the arrogant Wide Fang. No doubt he would proclaim himself a master of the hunt. Her lips curl, a hot sensation wrestling with the pangs of starvation.
Daughter, live.
With as wide a berth as she can manage, Ayovi steers alongside the man's giant flank.
“Silence. Your putrid breath gives one a headache,” she sets her terms, throwing a wry look in his direction. “This for the hunt only. I'm not sleeping with you.”