Spotted Eagle Mountain What you know about rocking a wolf on your noggin?

Wylla sniffed, clutching what amounted to a pile of month-old jerky possessively to her chest and waiting for Rheia to inevitably swoop in on it. Her hackles even shuffled along her spine when the mottled wolf's gaze dipped downward, but then a question came rather than an attack and she pinned back her ears, suddenly unsure.

"What, right here?" she asked, glancing down the forested slope. It wouldn't be a bad home, but it lacked the efforts of others. Wylla had the natural hardwired desire for company even if she bounced between acting wretched toward and taking advantage of most others she came across, but more than anything, she just wanted to get away with doing as little as possible. That wasn't an option as a lone wolf. It was hardly an option as a pack wolf, but she wasn't one to let that stop her from trying. As such, Wylla only considered a place with wolves she could convince to do the work for her to be home.

"No," she answered at length. "Is it yours or something?" Not that she would share her disgusting rawhide meal anyway, even if Rheia revealed she was the alpha of the entire mountain or something.