Duskfire Glacier [m]I hear it all, I hear it all in my head

Tikigâk met her in a snarling and snapping riposte, a brutal correction provided with her fangs as she snapped at the others muzzle, before she pressed harder for their throat. Words fell on deaf ears—Tikigâk was but seconds from becoming her death. 

And then, a calm sort of quiet—where she felt the body give in acceptance, in defeat. Tikigâk held her there by her vulnerable throat, tail square over her hindquarters in an assertion of her position over the trespasser. Her snarl did not end. The sounds of Blackfell, the weight of his support, was answered with each driven movement.

When the other maintained their submission, Tikigâk released long enough to say: leave, now—or die. No threat in her words—only promise. Tikigâk stepped away to give her room to retreat, but no more room than that—if the girl sought to go around her, Tikigâk would meet her again with tooth and claw. 

Darukaal had no room for a wolf such as this—one without sound mind and good sense to not trespass. If it had happened here and now, how many other times might it have happened? Would it happen again? It smelled of trouble.

Tikigâk should put her out out of her misery—the temptation to was abundantly clear. An ear turned toward Blackfell—if he called for it, she was prepared to answer.