Northstar Vale will the real slim shady please stand up

The rest of the pack was near now, but they hung back. Whether it was because they felt the situation was handled or because her name from the boy's lips came unexpected, the first female didn't know. She recognized Jackrabbit, yes, but any connection between them was snapped the moment he laid the scent of his urine over Duskvale's soil. She was deaf to his apology as she struck at him, signaling with a snarl that Jackrabbit's only option was to clam it and run for his life if he didn't plan on losing it.

She struck several sharp snaps, so incensed that she couldn't really tell if her jaws closed on fur, flesh, or empty air. She left enough space under her for Jackrabbit to twist and stand and flee—after all, she didn't relish the thought of another wolf's body rotting in her territory in the slightest—but there was no mercy or restraint as she went for the side of his face, intent on driving home the point that Duskvale was absolutely the wrong pack to fuck with.

She was so focused on Jackrabbit that she hardly noticed Zephyr, but her hateful attitude toward the juvenile could only mean that the pack would hunt him through their valley until he got the point if he did escape her grasp here, and she was grateful for his service as a bulwark. She felt confident that even if Jackrabbit got away from her now, Zephyr would be on his heels much faster than she would and would ensure his swift departure from the vale.