Don't get your hair caught in the propellor

The demands for war would fill the air, and she would chuckle. It pleased her greatly to know that her minions were so eager for blood. Soon. She would rise, her gaze would sweeping across the group before stopping on her golden toy. "Retribution will come." Her commanding voice was loud enough for the entire pack to hear, though her gaze would single out the russet bitch's sister. There was not a doubt in her mind that Maija was loyal to Arcanum, but she considered the pathetic queen to be family, and that would always stand in the way. At least the the russet pawn took her last breath. Releasing the woman from her gaze, she would glance at each face, coming to rest on the spotted boy. He had burst forth clearly not being taught any manners in his short life. "You are all dismissed." She would speak the pack, calling the meeting to an end. They had been productive, there was no use in keeping them any longer. When she made up her mind, she would call them together once more. "You, dear boy, will learn just who runs this pack." Lips would curl back briefly, fangs glinting in the sun. "You may attend the festival with us." She would allow him his wish, but sooner or later she would beat some sense into him.

"Burn Baby Burn"