drink! drank! drunk!

The king had become displeased with the newest member of his pack. Leera had promised him a litter yet it seemed she lacked any signs of pregnancy so far, and her scent lacked any markers that she had become pregnant from their first coupling. That meant she had not held up her end of the bargain they had struck and had no reason to be placed in a rank above his other, more faithful followers. He sought her out, his eyes narrowing as he found her wallowing in the orchard, surrounded by rotten apples. “Fitting.” He thought and gave little care for whether or not she heard him.

He stood over her, his eyes burning with dissatisfaction and loathing. “Enjoying yourself Sister Leera?” He asked  in a low growl, emphasizing the title she had not earned,  a snarl tugging at his muzzle as he looked into her half focused eyes.

Speaking  Thinking  You