Despoina was almost entertained by a new game she had discovered trying to figure out how much pressure and various ways to quiet the noisy pup. Large paws covered the tiny pup together and separate as Eleanor came into the den and nuzzled her in their own affectionate way. The moment of lapse attention and the pup was growling demandingly again. Losing patience, Despoina simply laid herself on top of the pups and commenced in gnawing on the carcasses her lover had brought, seemingly uncaring if she was smothering her offspring (though obviously careful to make sure she was not actually suffocating them). If she keeps it up, someone will find a way to silence her. The dark mother muttered, ripping through feathers. Either she or Vasily, she was sure, would rise to the challenge of out-yowling the pup. Steely grey eyes looked up at Eleanor and she gave a subtle nod in the acceptance of the naming of the quiet daughter.

She too was about to open her mouth when another came calling to their den, and yet another. Turning from pleasant to vicious, her fangs bared menacingly as the scent of the male drifted into the den. Already thick form bristled even bigger. In her full glory, the brute woman was not one to take lightly. Ignoring still more squeaky protests, she got to her feet to stand beside her mate, eyes and fangs flashing dangerously at the intrusion. Where Eleanor was joking and teasing, the hints of play on her lips, Despoina was not. Pups or no, if he came too close to her den she would tear him up more than the fowls at her feet. Her threatening snarls were cut short by the appearance of Pine and Eleanor’s kinder words. A different kind of snarl grated from her lips. Clearly she had no choice in this.

Who do you think I am?! She snarled at Pine. Some river of milk for everyone to suck off? The much taller woman glared down at her tiny Alphess, nose to nose with her teeth bared. I should snap you like a twig, Pine. She spun harshly on Beltran, still bristled but keep more of a distance from him. She could threaten and bully her queen all she wanted, but she was not heartless enough to sincerely put his, or her, pups in danger from the strange man. Fine! But they are your whelps! Not mine, and not our’s. With another snarling huff, mimicked by the Eleanor-esque pup, she sulked back into the den. Glaring up at them all, she continued her growls. Chuck the spawn in here so they can get some damn food. Ignoring the fact that she would care for the creatures and Eleanor would most assuredly fret over them as if they were their’s, Despoina tried desperately to maintain her sense of imposing dignity, grabbing a bird and shaking it to its further demise, sending feathers and bits of flesh everywhere. If Eleanor was going to so happily offer her up to help a stranger with more children, she was going to live with the mess, too.