His pale gaze remained trained on her as she seemed to prepare for him to lunge. The scent of Iromar was thick on her pelt, however, and she spoke with some sort of authority no matter if her intentions were misguided. Possum sneered, his wiry fur bristling, but he made no outward move of aggression, instead he waited to her what she might say. It was unlike him, to listen first and attack later, but he did not wish to anger Blackthorne nor incur some kind of wrath from the rest of the pack. Though he was a rabid, mercurial creature, he was not a stupid one. Young, perhaps, but not naive. If he had been, he doubted that the Darkbringer would have taken him into the pack at all. There was a worth inside him, and damn everyone who didn't see it.

When she repeated his word, Possum was overcome with an uncontrollable fury. He snapped at the air, snarling. "No!" He growled, his tail lashing behind his back, ears folded against his skull and lips peeled in a vicious display of aggression. How dare she? He stepped forward, lowering his head, eyes glinting with malice. But then she continued on to speak of her own rank, and upon learning this information there was more of a hesitant nature to his fury. Perhaps it was another test. He took a step back, tail raising over his hindquarters, though there was still a silent snarl upon his face and a bristling of his fur.

"My rank is th'aid like your'th... Not Thilverfang." His words were spoken with a low hiss, the air between his teeth offering a beastlike quality to his tones. Try as he might, however, his gnarled teeth could not allow him to speak like any other wolf. "I can't help the way I th'peak." It was a definitive statement, and hopefully she would understand... as he did not take kindly to being mocked. Whoever she was, it was not something that could go unpunished. Possum glowered at her, looking very much like the rabid creature that he was named for.