Ravensblood Forest preppers

meredith’s snarl cuts through the air like a blade, raw and vicious, her hackles bristling along the sharp lines of her spine. her patience—thin as sea-foam on a gale-wind day—finally snaps, and she rounds on him with fire in her eyes.

you don’t know shit about me. her voice is a low growl, each syllable weighted with the promise of violence. not where i been, not what i done, and sure as hell not who i’d ever crawl to.

her lip curls, teeth flashing in a warning meant to be heeded. he played his games, always testing, always pushing, but she wasn’t some bitch to be toyed with. not by him. not by anyone.

i ain't afraid of you, crowell, she hisses, stepping in close, nose nearly brushing his. and if you ever talk like that to me again, i’ll make damn sure you regret it.

she doesn’t wait for his response—doesn’t need to. instead, she turns sharply, tail snapping behind her like a whip as she strides away, leaving him in the dust.