Bearclaw Valley That I'm not the carefullest of girls

Excessive force was an old friend for Ameline, who had chased wolves to their own demise for trespassing. She had not witnessed the sin committed, but out of respect for Cole’s judgement she had joined the fight in an attempt to bring it to a swift halt. 

Restraint was both shown and dealt with ruthlessly finality. Where Ameline could have pulled and turned the woman’s chin to the sky, she instead tightened her grip, as a mother might if they felt their pup slipping. Cole’s weight would keep her secure. He hovered above the downed woman with all the poise of a thunderstorm ready to strike. 

Ameline merely flicked an ear toward Rala who begged for mercy, and with a brief cant of one ear and flick of an angry, ice-blue eye she growled to command silence.

She would not give the stranger mercy simply because Rala begged for it; she herself was too new to the pack to have obtained leverage like that. Ameline loosened her grip instead because she was inclined to run Bearclaw Valley in such a way that only the loyal, and the worthy would thrive. Any who came to the borders and started conflict were not welcome. 

The stranger seemed to calm. An indication that she and the pale wolf did know each other; presently, it did very little for Rala’s own reputation to associate with her. 

Cole, now, received her attention. 

How did thith conflict thtart?. She prompted calmly.