04-07-2009, 07:58 PM
The predator could hear the black female following it, and laid its ears flat against its head, bearing its fangs, and looking out of the corner of its eyes at her. It wanted to get away from her, get clear and then not have to talk to her anymore. It didn't seem like she wanted to permit that, however, and was giving chase. In a wolf pack, this might have been nothing more than a bored or ornery member pestering a big surly male, but out here, it was much different. The predator knew that she was not interested in Brennt sexually, and that eliminated all possibility that she was trying to play. No, she was pursuing it, and if not for play, then for something else.
Growling at Cwmfen, it increased its pace, intending to give her a strong hint to keep her distance and escape her. It didn't want to fight her, it had been in a lot of fights, and this place was meant to be a safe haven. Nonetheless, she was not allowing it to leave, and it remembered vaguely what it had learned as Brennt: her packmate had been hurt by it. If she wanted a fight, however, she would have attacked already. If she wanted sex, she would have played instead of stared. They were enemies because a member of her pack had attacked it, with or without her words, it could detect the shared pack scent between the two black wolves. A member of the pack was now here...far from its pack territory. Perhaps trying to hedge in on Brennt's territory?
Gliding over to a new tree, the gray-brown wolf lifted a leg, and marked it at its base. Ears still down, teeth bared and now growling viciously, it turned on her, standing with the tree at its back, similar to how some wolves might defend pack territory. It understood these rules, and knew that she did, as well. Here, she was not allowed to approach it. Here she was not allowed to talk or fight, because it belonged to the predator, it belonged to Brennt. The raised hairs, the terrifying grimace, all of it said one thing more loudly than Brennt's slow words ever could have: Get out.
Growling at Cwmfen, it increased its pace, intending to give her a strong hint to keep her distance and escape her. It didn't want to fight her, it had been in a lot of fights, and this place was meant to be a safe haven. Nonetheless, she was not allowing it to leave, and it remembered vaguely what it had learned as Brennt: her packmate had been hurt by it. If she wanted a fight, however, she would have attacked already. If she wanted sex, she would have played instead of stared. They were enemies because a member of her pack had attacked it, with or without her words, it could detect the shared pack scent between the two black wolves. A member of the pack was now here...far from its pack territory. Perhaps trying to hedge in on Brennt's territory?
Gliding over to a new tree, the gray-brown wolf lifted a leg, and marked it at its base. Ears still down, teeth bared and now growling viciously, it turned on her, standing with the tree at its back, similar to how some wolves might defend pack territory. It understood these rules, and knew that she did, as well. Here, she was not allowed to approach it. Here she was not allowed to talk or fight, because it belonged to the predator, it belonged to Brennt. The raised hairs, the terrifying grimace, all of it said one thing more loudly than Brennt's slow words ever could have: Get out.