I was carrying a dead dear over my shoulder, heading to my den. It was hidden, but big and comfortable with a moss bed. I immediately stopped in my tracks smelling something sweet. My tail wags and I immediately run to it, inhaling the scent. I then stop when I see you, your finger gliding on the water. I growl and snarl. Who do you think you are? What are you doing here? Trespassing a wolf is idiotic, you know. I say in my usual grumpy and angry tone. My fangs showing.
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