The Princess and the Prince

Oh but this crimson boy really was doing everything he could to piss her off, wasn't he? Cináed was not only disrespectful and ignorant, but he was obnoxious too! He gave a dramatically pensive moment of thought before denying knowing her family or their name. Now she knew that was a lie! Every wolf in Boreas knew about the Fatalis line and the might of the Armada. From the southern coast to the northern tundras, the Fatalis name was infamous, almost if not more so than Abraxas or Klein. She huffed and gave a dismissive roll of her eyes, deciding to challenge him back. "Oh, like you're somebody more famous? What's your family name then, huh?" Likely some mutt name of a weak lineage of loner wolves, no doubt. The boy was cocky and arrogant, but he was a nobody.

Satira was quite pleased with herself when she watched Cina shake his paw after her teeth made contact with his soft paw pad. Served him right; it was what he deserved for being so improper with a princess. If her grandfather had seen such impudence she knew he'd have taken his paw clean off his leg. One day when she was big too, maybe she'd take after her Grandpa Sirius in that regard. Or maybe she'd just have someone stronger do her dirty work for her. It was quite unladylike for a princess to be involved in matters so bloody and messy, after all. Her victory was short-lived, however, as Cina never stopped smirking. Then the boy questioned her lineage further by mentioning her floppy ears and her cat claws. Narrowed pale blue eyes fixed him with a death glare, and if looks could kill she would have struck Cina dead on the spot.

"Well, I'm very sorry your family doesn't have any special gifts to give you," she snapped back, lifting a tiny paw to extend and retract her claws a few times to show them off. A proud grin appeared on her face while she held the yearling's golden gaze. His eyes were so intense, and virtually the exact opposite of hers, fiery and impulsive versus her cool and calculating. "You're lucky my Mom's aren't around. She would rip your tongue out for insults like that." It was true, too. Asla was the pinnacle of righteous violence, and gods help the ember-speckled boy if the pup's mother had been around. But that didn't mean Tira couldn't stand up for herself. Though his comments had hit some secret insecurities deep inside her heart.

"Satira"