The realization that I could kill this wolf and dispatch the threat she posed against my home and life once and for all did not evade me. Our fight had weakened her greatly, and her vulnerabilities only became more glaringly obvious as time went on. At the fight’s start, she had been a well matched opponent, but now I saw it - the tremble of her legs, the acceptance of her fate in those glaring eyes. A different wolf would end it here and now, and know she would never be able to try to disrupt our lives again. However, I am a wolf of honor. The fight was over, I had won. I had no thirst for her blood, no desire to label myself a murderer.

Adrenaline had coursed through my veins, aiding me in the fight and allowing me to stand tall despite my injuries. As it slowly abated, I recognized the family feud that was taking place before me. I would be lying if I said it did not anger me to my core to realize that whatever history these wolves had, whatever perceived wrongs had been done against this shewolf, had brought her to my borders and threatened the livelihood of MY pack. A snarl boiled up in my throat, as I kept the fury at her insolence at bay.

I did not care about their lifelong history, all I cared about was why they felt the need to bring their problems to my borders and bloody the grounds of my home. A roaring snarl poured forth from my maw, and I thundered forward the few steps that separated us. I stood, towering over the injured form of my adversary and the cowering body of the wolf who had torn us apart. ”I said, who are you?” My question would not go unanswered twice, or my jaws would unleash my wrath upon them both.