two types of clever

This male was a furious little thing, eager for the thrill of battle and so haughty it was physically repulsive. He braced himself, limbs spreading to distribute his meager weight over the ground, tail tucking between his legs. She snorted, unable to help the tiny smirk that played upon her lips. Gods above, this was a rather pathetic display. No doubt that shaggy pelt was infested with fleas and disease, which would only hinder him should she lower herself to a fight with him. A reply would be forthcoming, but it was about as helpful as a rock to the face. Kreft. A rather blunt name, but fitting. It was blunt and jagged, like his personality so far. He begged to know who she was, and the pallid femme lifted her cranium so she might take her gaze from the features of the other. Stance would shift, toes splaying in the dirt as her look of disdain became a sneer. "I am Lirika, if you must know." She retorted simply, returning her mercury gaze to his face. If wolves like this were more plentiful here, she might think that returning home had been a truly bad idea indeed. The look in his eye of superiority was both infuriating and laughable, but she chose to simply ignore it.

"You did not answer my question, dearie." She cooed, accented vocals honeyed. "What in that little head of yours says that you have the right to treat a complete stranger with such blatant disrespect?" She inquired, tail tip flicking as it lowered. Audits would perk, pushing forward atop her crown so she might catch every snippet of his reply. Evidently it must be something grand, for only the best could be so idiotic as to have no manners at all. Or maybe he was a lunatic, and a frantic master would come bursting from the foliage to collect their charge. How amusing that would be. A low snicker would bubble up in her throat, escaping parted lips with a small grin.