"All the better to hear them," he quipped back with a grin, unashamed of his own indolence. Hell, wasn't like he'd actually be allowed to chase off an intruder by himself anyway, was it? Last time he'd tried he'd been sent to "safety" like a baby even though between Drashiel's teachings and Daegmar and Hati's he'd been better trained at six months than most wolves were at two years. Whatever. He refused to let himself sink back into that morass of brooding anger that he'd been mired in the last few months. His father hadn't let people hold him back, and neither should he.
He deliberately stilled his tail as she snapped at it, hardly wincing at all as her teeth closed over the fluffy appendage and, tucking his paws up under him, he rolled off the branch into the snow as though she'd pulled him off. "I wouldn't doubt you beat him," he claimed, muffled by the snow, "with all that strength of yours. I'm quivering at your prowess. Really! You must be Valentine's right hand man already. Er, woman." He peered up at her, eyes half-lidded, the tip of his tongue sticking out teasingly. "Mercy Tigerkiller, Praetor of Imperialis."
