Blackfoot Forest conflict of interests

I don't usually greet strangers in this manner, Dovev reminded her, idly swishing his tail. Internally, however, the male was contemplating on whether he'd had enough wordplay with this mutt, and wondering if he wanted her out of his sight. The accent did grate on Dovev's ears, as it came across as being uncultured. But then again, he had encountered true wolves with different tongues and put up with it.

His aforementioned theory on being an uncultured mutt was further reinforced when the scrawny female returned to sloppily ripping open the dead animal. Dovev watched for a moment, her smaller body tugging forcefully at the hide of the deer or whatever it was, trying to pull away the skin towards the meat.

Where did you come from? Dovev reiterated, his eyes beginning to cool. His patience had never been strong, and the frostiness in his breath should be enough of a warning that the male saw no use for chatting up the dog save curiosity. Once he was sated, the arctic male would find a way to dispose of this animal in an effective manner.