Bramblepoint know who you are

Snaking his muzzle forward, Cypress snapped at the fleeing ungulate’s heels, tasting the copper of blood hot and thick and heady on his tongue. It was easy to forgive Tryp for trypping up — the plan was working flawlessly, and the silver-maned Frostfur had a deep respect for wolves who exuded competence. Slowly, maybe a little reluctantly, Tryp ticked back up a notch in Cy’s esteem, though he was still inclined to be prickly toward the new wolf. Seeing Rannoch at such close proximity only added to the older littermate’s excitement — his mouth, even the ruined left side, was pulled back into an exaggerated wolf grin as he tossed a few warbling wolf barks at his brother.