Trouble with a capital T

His age meant he was still small. But next to him, the pretend-viking was smaller still. As she manoeuvred her strap so it was held by only her teeth, he gave a big tug. Dragging the smaller wolf off her paws until she was dangling beneath him. Strap still in her mouth like some persistent dog. "Let. Go!" He growled over his mouthful of leather. "Just. Give. Me. The. Food." He snarled. Viadarr may have given him a small allowance to eat, but he knew the importance of food. You scoffed it down the second you had it in front of you, before the bigger wolves could eat their share and then steal yours. 


She was hoarding food. He just knew it. And he wasn't going to stop until he got it. Growling still, he gave the bag a shake, and the wolf with it. Trying to dislodge her from HIS prize.