Brows remained furrowed from curiosity as I watch Leonidas pace a deep path into the melting snow, so far down do his angry paws dig that dead grass begins to peak through the white. Soil begins to mix with the crushed powder, turning it to a muddy brown concoction that usually would not be seen until spring had made her full appearance for the year. Those were some fuming steps that he took. Had I caused such fury? Jeez, not only did my mere presence irritate my own brother, but now this guy too? It perplexed me beyond belief. Perhaps I would seek out a wise wolf to question about my predicament – after all, father would be biased in answering such questions. Even at my young age I had realized that.

When it seemed that Leonidas had finally realized I was watching him, his body grew even tenser. He stopped and snapped his glaring gaze upon me, and I arched one brow inquisitively. I do not flinch under his livid stare; I had suffered Swallowbane’s loathing looks enough times through my first year of life that it no longer fazed me.

His shout resonated through the forest and my nose wrinkled at the sound. I had not experienced much hate in my life, usually surrounded by the love of my father and sister. But I recognized the note of disgust nevertheless. Did it hurt? Of course. I am only young and I could not understand what I could have possibly done to him to make him feel the way he did about me. But, I could try to change his viewpoint. He, too, was young. I held no fear of him, and it did not cut quite as badly as my own brother’s choice to treat me as he did. His follow up statement about staring illicits a snort from my wrinkled nose, returning it to its relaxed state. As he takes a single step closer to me I boldly step forward and lower my own crown to match his posture. My puppy hackles rise defensively, just barely bristling because the fur is not yet mature. Lifting my lips I growl once, short and sweet.

And then I abandon the aggressive posture and lift my head, taking another step forward and tucking my chin to protect myself – just like father showed me. My tail curls dominantly over my back and I look down upon him. “No, but it is rude for you to stalk me like you do,” I state simply, ears pressed forward in a friendly manner. My head tilts slightly to the left of its own accord, adopting a curious look in my eyes. “Why do you do that, anyways?” I ask. The question has been eating at me and finally the opportunity to ask it has presented itself. In my gut I felt that Leonidas would not attack me, but I suppose anything was possible. I just hoped my instincts were right.