09-15-2011, 07:55 AM
((No wonder Liam has the rank of shame. LOL))
She had taken off, and his larger frame had spun to grab her. She continued to insult him, and he shook her to stop her irritating little words. Her screaming was loud and annoying, and he considered the water trough instead of horse dung, but his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar form appearing. Liam wasn't the chubby puppy Shawchert had shared his kill with anymore, and golden eyes stared balefully at the larger male. His eyes narrowed, but he released the squirming brat, right overtop a mud puddle. 'Accidentally,' of course. He didn't wait to make sure she ended up in the mud, but stepped back, staring at Shawchert defiantly.
He was eight months old, and according to the rotten little brat at his feet, a mean bully. In his eyes he had every right to punish her for being so rude to him, although the pack's protector -Juliet's father- might not and probably wouldn't see it that way. He opened his mouth, intending to say something suave and mature. What came out, however, surprised him with it's petulant childish tone.
"She started it, Shawchert." The boy sat on his haunches, staring balefully at the adult. Yesterday, Skye had lectured him and knocked him down to the Traditore rank. Not that he cared, he never had wanted to be some dumb merchant anyway. But there was still no way he would let some stupid little girl boss him around. It wasn't in the muddy colored boy to let the littler girl boss him around and get him in trouble.
She had taken off, and his larger frame had spun to grab her. She continued to insult him, and he shook her to stop her irritating little words. Her screaming was loud and annoying, and he considered the water trough instead of horse dung, but his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar form appearing. Liam wasn't the chubby puppy Shawchert had shared his kill with anymore, and golden eyes stared balefully at the larger male. His eyes narrowed, but he released the squirming brat, right overtop a mud puddle. 'Accidentally,' of course. He didn't wait to make sure she ended up in the mud, but stepped back, staring at Shawchert defiantly.
He was eight months old, and according to the rotten little brat at his feet, a mean bully. In his eyes he had every right to punish her for being so rude to him, although the pack's protector -Juliet's father- might not and probably wouldn't see it that way. He opened his mouth, intending to say something suave and mature. What came out, however, surprised him with it's petulant childish tone.
"She started it, Shawchert." The boy sat on his haunches, staring balefully at the adult. Yesterday, Skye had lectured him and knocked him down to the Traditore rank. Not that he cared, he never had wanted to be some dumb merchant anyway. But there was still no way he would let some stupid little girl boss him around. It wasn't in the muddy colored boy to let the littler girl boss him around and get him in trouble.