Whitestone Monadnock World on Fire

The soft ones. Craw grunted in muted agreement, the mention of them another reminder that this world was different to his previous one, another suggestion that war would be best avoided. For every name that Craw could list as a worthy fighter... the pack had another who he would not have put as readily in harm's way. Morganna was right, they would need training, toughening up. While he was under no illusion that they would be able to make fighters of them all, some basic proficiency in self-defense was essential. And on a rather different level, Craw had found that helping wolves to become more independent and confident had the curious but welcome side-effect of making them quite grateful to - and dependent on - their teacher.

As she snapped at his cheek, he huffed in mock-antagonism, feeling soothed by her conclusions and the fact that they agreed on how to proceed. And when he looked at her and saw a woman who he had trained up from inexperienced to quite the dangerous creature, and here she was, at his side... and the smile grew thin and hungry on his face as his head filled with thoughts of putting the southern rabble in their place, but increasingly, just of her -

"Best make sure you're in a good position to teach them, then," he teased, and gave her no more warning before curling around to push himself against her, teeth flashing and chest rumbling provocatively, feeling like they deserved a distraction.