Sleepy Fox Hollow Kumbricia

The mountain air seemed toxic to her, somehow; Marina too was entertaining thoughts of gentler terrain when her solitude was disrupted. She lifted her head to take him in, chin tipped up in defiance of the pity in his gaze. Her own thalassic eyes flashed with the dark pride of a creature long-accustomed to skimming along survival's razor edge. She did not need his pity.

For the barest moment her lips slicked back from her teeth, a simple reminder that even a wolf brought low was a fanged and feral thing. Can I help you? Marina asked, her voice a touch more acidic than she'd intended. She wouldn't apologize; he was staring, rather rudely, and she was pregnant and hungry and miserable.