Daylight Savings

Othello didn't miss a single hungry look in the opposing female, the blood lust was thick in her pastel eyes. Her ears lay flat against her skull, caution clear in her guarded eyes. The dame brought up a pack, calling her a dove. Blinking a few times, she furiously shook her head. Packs were not her thing, too many wolves around all the time. She couldn't wear a mask 24-7, it would be too tiring. "I can't... I'm not good in groups." She said softly, slightly afraid of how the dame would react.

The dame had a feeling that this would not go down, the look of want for shed blood only grew in the females eyes. Perhaps the little ones growing inside her craved a food of another time. Oh well, she would not fight her. Sure, she would most likely get beaten down, but she would take it. She would not risk harming the unborn.