Lost Creek Hollow I'm afraid it's too late

So. That was how it would be.

Liffey had to give herself credit for one thing in this conversation --she didn't lose her collected composure even when the woman insisted on insulting her mate. Her smile tightened, but it didn't falter. Not even when she went even further and declared that Breccan was essentially not worth her time. True, that wasn't exactly what she said, but that was exactly how Liffey heard it. And suddenly, the Frostfur was realizing that it was indeed possible to be more angry at someone than she had been at Moonspear.

She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts before speaking. She was not good with conflict. Words were difficult for her in even the best of situations. Adding this level of tension made them nearly impossible. She knew she should defend her mate and verbally flay Treason alive for disrespecting him--her alpha, as if she needed a better reason to treat Rannoch well other than the fact that he was his own good-hearted, caring self. She also knew she shouldn't just let it slide, this disregard of Breccan in favor of Treason's children. As if any of those whelps would ever hold a candle to the princes Liffey had born herself.

But she didn't. The tension in her smile relaxed after only a few seconds, and then it reached her eyes again. Liffey could handle this. In her own way. "Don't worry, I have other teachers in mind for my son. I know you'll be too tied up with your own soon enough for much else," Liffey said, fixing Treason with a cool smile before glancing skyward.

"The air is getting cool," she commented lightly, "I do believe a storm is coming." Liffey lowered her gaze again on Treason before adding, "You might want to get home. Wouldn't want you to catch a chill." She dipped her muzzle then, turned and strode away. She'd gotten all she needed from this conversation.