Wrong Foot Forward

The female was quiet in her retreat, more so bothered into submission rather than humbled to depart. She hadn’t encountered abuse of this likeness before, and she was learning rather quickly that it was not the kind she decided to endure. And her convictions only strengthened when her ears fanned back to the soft crush of snow at the rear. Goodness… he was following her? She dared not look back to investigate lest he took it as an invitation start their game again. She could certainly do without it. But why he would pursue her even after her compliance was beyond her realm of understanding. Perhaps he assumed she could just return when he was out of sight. While it was very well plausible, the wanderer was not in a hurry to risk humiliation again. The rhythm of her heavy steps droned on for several minutes, long after the fueling heat of embarrassment waned and all that remained was the cold of travel. But still… still she could hear his steps behind her. Just within audible range but not close enough to be assaulted by his scent. She had a mind to let him be, but returning to isolation was difficult when accompanied. Suddenly she halted and wheeled around with head raised to address the male in the eye. She shared no words yet let her expression tell all; the mask of worn high with eyes narrowed expectantly as the flesh of her muzzle quivered with an unsung snarl.