Foul Temper

The retreating form of the leopard accompanied the childish bellows of the den ridden dire. Iolaire cast a sympathetic look towards the cat before heading towards the den. As she passed the vulture,  she gave a shake off her head.  The last thing Sirius needed was rocks. He could use the ones in his head if he wanted them that badly.

She leaned against one of the few palms that the oasis held and stared at the brute. She didn't say anything. He had to know that he was acting like some spoiled child. He was howling like a pup and treating his companions like garbage. Bast had only been trying to help. So she stood and she stare like some tiny, disappointed mother.