She should have known that the little creature was a fighter! After her last foray with racoons she was determined to stay way with anything with fangs. The racoon had left a small, slowly healing wound on her nose because it too hadn't been impressed with her. The world was all about appearances and presences. Fjallraven appeared weak and timid and she felt just the same. It was not a surprise that she did not scare the creatures around her. Snarling was not in her vocal memory. Laughing was only newly introduced because her life before never inspired much joy. It was only the love of her mother that had kept her complacent. She had not seen much of the world or other wolves until she had found herself alone here in Molodian.

What was unfortunate is that the mongoose was determined to show her who was boss. To punish her for even acting like she was going to attack it. It didn't care that she had miserably failed. That she had hurt her paw in the process and even now was stuck between a rock and a hard place (harharhar!). It chattered and warned her. Fjallraven imagined if it could speak it would be saying 'Ha! So much for that, try that again missy and I'll tear your paw clean off!' She believed it.

If only Jericho were here to teach her! She wanted to do this all on her own but she had known, honestly, that she would fail. It wasn't like she was a tracker. The only thing she had ever killed was that racoon and it had been wounded and trapped by Jericho before she had done it. She was a terrible wolf. Worse even than a pup except maybe that was what she still was.

As her front paws press into the rock, claws scratching across the stony side in an attempt to find purchase and push herself up, she can feel her back legs slipping. Against rock her claws were nothing. Yet suddenly the screeching of the mongoose is interrupted by a growl and she hears the distinct sound of the animal scurrying away. Fear traps her. Her heart flutters, falters, and she thinks she might have a heart attack if the wolf does not first tear her apart. A slight whimper escapes her maw despite trying to hold it in and then he speaks.

Are you as pathetic as you look right now? Those words are like a blow to her soul. Her mother had said that often. Why even try when you are going to fail? So often those words had been spit into her face and she had nodded, agreed, and been pliant. Suddenly she manages to catch some small crack in the rock and push her upper half up once more so that she falls back onto her tail and when her injured paw hits the rock she yelps instinctively.

Catching her breath now she twists her upper half around, her head turning to spy the huge male below. God! Was he a giant? He could eat her in one gulp! Her ears are pressed back to her skull, and even as she looks at him Fjallraven seems to sink in on herself, her legs and head pressing close to her body. There was no way she was going down there with him there. He looked scornful. He would certainly kill her.

"I-I-I slipped!" Despite how gaunt she looks Fjallraven has the shadow of loveliness with her charcoal gray body and the slithers of gold throughout her ribs and thighs. But it is her voice that is truly angelic, something so sweet that it can draw in those around her - if she wasn't so pathetic. "Is it gone?" The last words are spoken in an almost whisper, fearful to talk to the beast yet her golden eyes peek down at him like a fox from it's hole, curious too.