I have no real reason in my head that this male reacts in such a manner to me. It is pleasing, in a way, that he has such spirit. It is one reason I chose him, singling him out of the other wolves in the wildlands. Somehow he had managed to survive despite the wounds that clung to him. The disgusting rip in his face that revealed his gums, the way saliva pooled and dripped and swung away from him. It both repelled me and pressed me onward, biting and pushing and receiving the breif pain of his own attacks. A wolf like this, a wolf that could not be overcome, that would not submit, was the kind of wolf one needed in a pack as a loyalist. If Daenery's inspired such devotion then this male would not stop until his very last breath to protect whatever needed protection. That, however, would be up to Dany once they arrived in the mountains.
The male pauses in his assault, clearly looking furious and startled by my statement. I can't help the way I grin at him, wry and cunning, before I howl and my face drops back into a more sedate mask. One ear flicks at his voice. Old Man? It causes my eyes to narrow slightly in a more sardonic look considering I wasn't that old. Hell, I was in my prime and my healthy figure was testament to that.
I jerk my head to the side just in time but this male grabs hold of my cheek, his top two teeth puncturing the skin while his bottom just scraped against the bone through my skin along my jaw. I jerked back with a snarl, tearing away, and then with a thrust of my hindlegs proceeded to leap into him again, using all the force and weight of my body. In my backwards peddling I assumed he would turn sort of caddy-corner to me so I had hopes that I would knock into his neck and shoulder and throw him off balance. Maybe even off his damnable feet. And I wouldn't let him back up until Daenery's got here if I did. Loyal, I think to myself, but not without a fight.