The blood you bleed Is just the blood you owe

Flare winched and scowled at the sound of the bowl hitting the den floor. It didn’t break, his equipment was generally rugged and sturdy. Build to last, not for looks. All the same, she ought to show his things better respect. She had been sleeping for days and seemed as weak as a newborn kitten. He’d broken things before, he didn’t remember being quite so weak.

She placed his bowl before him, and filled her own without incident. He looked at hers for a moment, and then nodded. “Eat.” He commanded her. Usually she was forced to wait until he was finished, a sign of dominance and respect. But her weakness was really starting to grate at him. If she didn’t get better soon, he’d knock her out and she could be useful decorating the borders instead. Foolish wolf.


"Speech"