Hushed Willows it’s a most unusual day

If not for the past few days, Cambria might’ve laughed at the sight of the stranger ducking Wyvern’s attack, her screech even shriller than the bird’s. He might’ve found her accented speech fascinating, despite her furious tone. But there wasn’t an ounce of amusement in his drained body.

Wyvern! he shouted, clicking his tongue sharply. She’s not a threat.

The nighthawk squawked in response, circling only a few yards above the trio of wolves. But she did not go in for a second attack. Instead, she winged toward Cambria and banked, coming to land on the slope of his back. He winced a little as her talons pinched his spine.

Sorry about that, he said through gritted teeth. She thinks she’s my wife, doesn’t take kindly to other females talking to me… or looking at me… or perceiving me in any way, Cambria explained, a comment that might’ve been accompanied by a smirk if not for the preceding circumstances.

Wyvern tugged a tuft of fur out of his nape, earning another grimace. He muttered something under his breath (“What? It’s the truth!”) and shook out his pale fur. Truth be told, he considered this a feature, not a bug, as he really wanted nothing to do with women. Or men, for that matter.

Aloud, Cambria added, We’ll get out of your way, as his two-toned gaze flicked between the two strangers.

He didn’t wait for a response before he began moving away, the nightjar bobbing on his back, her head swiveling to keep her sharp eyes trained on the black she-wolf.