It's not even breakfast

There was very little the boy liked about the man before him, save his intimidating nature. A puppy growl rising up from his throat as the man laughed. He lowered himself closer to the ground as the strange brute shifted to a more offensive position. The whelp did not know the brutal nature of his sire, a nature he carried within him yet untapped; but he foolishly would believe himself up to the task of defending himself. He would show no fear, as he did not seem to possess it, that would simply come with age, but the boy was young still and that was all that mattered in the moment.
He did not like feeling as though the brute was taunting him, did not like being mocked. He wanted to wipe that smirk right off his face but he found himself rooted to the ground, snarling in his little voice as the man spoke again. A retort ready upon his tongue when a sudden shape bolted across his peripherals, he jumped his gaze snapping onto the figure. He bristled some as she drew up beside him, sidestepping away from her some. She seemed to have her attention on the brute however and he was given a moment to draw in her form. Novocaine did not know of any older siblings, though she resembled his mother in some ways, he had no reason to think her a sister. He had a sister already what need did he have for a second one?
He would turn his attention back to the brute, now a bit away from the boy. He wanted to go after him, but wasn?t sure he should move, wasn?t sure of the new wolf?s intentions. His gaze had widened some, tail curling between his legs, tiny fangs still bared but now rather than confident in his ability to hold his own he was, in his mind, stuck between a rock and a hard place.