Bearclaw Valley mollyrock

Cole let out a low chuckle, though the sound was dry and humorless, edged with the kind of irritation that had been brewing for days. He leaned back slightly, wincing as his weight shifted against the tender wounds along his flank.

Some bitch with a collar, he said, his voice rough, carrying that ever-present southern drawl. Came sniffin' around the borders like she owned the place. Took a bite outta her, 'course.

He rubbed at the edge of his muzzle with a paw, eyes narrowing as he spat another glob of blood onto the rocks. Then @Rala shows up. Got between us—said the woman’s her friend.

Cole snorted, shaking his head. Friend or not, she’s got no damn business here. That collar tells me she’s trouble, but Rala? She ain’t listenin’. Got in the way, claimed it wasn’t a fight worth finishing. His gaze turned to Tvar, his amber eyes sharp. What’d you think ‘bout that?

tag for mention