Blackfoot Forest [m] only devils left

Wake’s head canted curiously when the she-wolf did not immediately react to his voice. A bird-of-prey winged overhead, drawing her attention, which she then turned onto him— her body a spiked, defensive mace. He hadn’t a moment to intuit her disability before the arrival of another: the Bearclaw guard.

A single brow lifted, confused by the other’s words and expression. Wrong place? He glanced towards the victress, then back to the bearwolf. Understanding seemed to dawn on him, and amusement curled along his muzzle.

I see, he maintained a casual tone, again unruffled. You would prefer me at your hindquarters instead of hers? That could be the only reason this wolf showed such disdain for the one who had gifted his pack and sought alliance with them; this brute was jealous that Wake’s attentions were not upon him. His tail wagged over his back, excited by the thought of mounting the lionmane to pleasure him.

Another behemoth made himself known then, menacing by all accounts. But Winter’s Wake did not respond to threats, verbal or otherwise. Half-lidded eyes showed no concern for the show of teeth and masterful posturing.

So, the woman was an object to be owned, if these two meatheads were any indication. He may have spared her a sympathetic look, but he knew better than to take his eyes away from the blithering wranglers who sought to corral her like livestock. Without an ounce of agitation, he made it clear that they would have no quarrel from him. Especially not for a wolf he did not know or care about.

My apologies. His smile reptilian. She seemed open to other suitors, so far from her pack. But I will not spoil her for the two of you. It was obvious that this possessive man was not enough for her. Big body, tiny package, perhaps? He looked the gold-lined titan up and down, tutting to himself. What a shame.

May no man on your path be more determined than I, he tacked on in spiritual parting, as if that’d mean anything to these dick-brained mercenaries. Logic would have little dominion here with that scent looming over all their heads. But for Wake, a cooler head always prevailed.

With a wave of his tail, Wake moved around the group without turning his back, and melded quietly into the treeline. (Though not before shooting the valorous woman a “Call me!” look as he went.)