Hoshor Plains You Should See me In a Crown

It was a fruitless task. The trail dissapeared into it's Warren and she growled in frustration. Looking up she sensed she was not alone, and turned. A black pelted shewolf, a bit younger than herself, with the lean musculature, intense eyes, and scars of a fighter. And a way of carrying herself that showed, that much like Nemisis, she was- or had been at least- a warrior queen. A slow smile crossed her lips. Interesting. Very interesting. 
"Well. You're a pretty little thing, aren't you." she practically purred, moving closer to the shewolf in question. She was young, but it meant nothing really. Nemisis had been running an army since she was six months old. "But you aren't just pretty. This rose has thorns...and a venom, doesn't it?" She was nearly gagging internally at the theatrics, but it was necessary. She was still sore from her recent battles and moved carefully- the tear to her shoulder especially stung and seeped, though not as bad anymore. Now she just needed her pelt to grow neatly back over it. "Name's Nemisis. And yours?"