Cerulean Cape jello mold

Although perhaps lacking traditional cleverness, Moorhen was no fool: she could easily read in the other's eyes a strong desire to claim the stick for her own. Her possessive streak was a mile wide, and she dug her teeth into this reality and prepared herself for a fight — this was her fucking stick.

It was hers, and she did not appreciate being sworn at. Even if the male wasn't actively attacking her, it seemed tantamount to starting a fight. Without an attack to fend off, however, she was somewhat at a loss for how to respond.

So she stepped forward, cocked a dark hind leg, and peed on the stick, burgundy gaze boring into Lionel's all the while.