Lost Creek Hollow To the project

Again she almost dozed off -- that probably would have been nice, the pups had quieted down a bit and it was probably time for everyone in the den to take a well-deserved nap.  But eventually the sound of someone approaching dragged her to consciousness again.  Treason waited only a second or two to confirm the sound before she started to growl, a low, dangerous note that held none of the play that it most recently had been used for.  If whoever that was stepped into the den and wasn't the right person, she'd rip their face off.  Okay, she wasn't even sure if there was a right person but there were definitely wrong ones.  Tired and still aching, would she know the difference?

But as they stopped and the scent wafted down, the growl faded.  It was in a sense, the moment of truth.  She kind of had to make a decision now, didn't she?  She didn't trust anyone easily, but of all the wolves out there, didn't he deserve it?  And hadn't she already made her decision?  Though seeing him was kind of a challenge from where she was, the whines were familiar, unthreatening.  Terance?  There was a pause, a few seconds of silence as she debated before finally, more quietly saying, Come.  The tension across her shoulders started to slowly ebb -- she hadn't even noticed how long she'd been like that, probably as soon as she'd heard him coming.  Treason's tail tapped slowly on the floor of the den.  Maybe she could relax.