Ain't No Rest For the Wicked

Malleus explained his god and Sparrow. She wasn't convinced, but not for his lack of trying or conviction. It was obvious he believed his words and in this situation, that was all that mattered.

He came closer to Sparrow and Sparrow once again fought the urge to shrink away. He nearly seemed crazed as he spoke on helping her. Her eyes narrowed, her ears flicking back only a degree or two. "I should have let you die," she thought, her gaze trying to convey the sharpness and burning heat of her growing hatred for him and his family.

Malleus composed himself. Sparrow forced her hackles to lower. He told her that one way or another this was happening. Sparrow's stomach dropped. She felt her body growing weak with her own fear, but she didn't budge.

"You think," she spat, half out of contempt, half out of an attempt to gather her scrambled thoughts, "that I will just hand over my pack to you? What, then, of my pack mates? My family? Even myself? What do you intend for us?"

If this family truly believed they were gods, Sparrow knew what that would make wolves like her and the rest of the wolves in Abaven.

Her legs shook, there was no doubt. No matter how timid nor how unsure she was, Sparrow didn't intend to back down just yet.