Bearclaw Valley That I'm not the carefullest of girls

Cole spat into the snow, dark streaks staining the white powder. His chest heaved, adrenaline still coursing through his veins as he glared down at the woman pinned beneath him. The sting in his throat was sharp, her strike precise enough to make him bite back a curse before he growled, Fucking bitch.

His amber eyes flicked up to Rala as she entered the fray, her voice a desperate plea for calm. For a brief moment, his jaw tightened, words unspoken as his focus shifted to Ameline. Her steady presence kept the situation from spiraling further, though her ice-blue gaze demanded silence even from Rala’s pleading.

Asked if she was lost. Then struck me like a rabid fuckin' animal. Cole said, his voice rough, a rasp from the blow he’d taken. His gaze narrowed as he looked down at the woman beneath him, disdain thick in his tone. That was her answer.

He shifted his weight slightly, keeping the stranger pinned but careful not to press harder than necessary. Blood from his spit mingled with the snow as he turned his focus back to Ameline. We’ll need to figure out what to do with her, he added, his voice gruff. Then, with a final glance toward Rala, he added, You’d best explain fast why you’re vouching for her, cub. These ain't your lands quite yet, and I've got people to protect from tagged dogs. He gestured to the thick collar around her neck.