Greatwater Lake roped up, rat in a cage

She spoke, mumbled and muttered to only herself, just under her breath, and Daighre ignored it with a well practiced, well oiled ease. Apathy was a familiar emotion to him. Anger was a familiar emotion to him.
 
They were two opposing ends of a sliding spectrum. Two opposing sides of the same coin.
 
It wasn’t until he heard her—the sound of her footfalls, small and fast and quick—did her start to care.
 
It was when her teeth, thin and needling and pricking over biting and tearing, found the end of his tail did he really start to fucking care. He snarled, snapped, and whirled around to face her, her teeth already finding his forelimb. Too slow. He was too fucking slow.
 
It only served to piss him off further.
 
“You fucking—” He snarled. His ears pressed back against his head and his tail tucked close between his back legs. His teeth mashed.
 
She was in front of him, before him.
 
He lunged, front paws raising, and his jaws parted, a snarl tearing through his vocal chords.