Erest snapped his ears back, staring stone eyed back at Molaki. There was no ounce of submission in the wolf, rather a fire of determination, laced with the same hatred that he stank of.
"DROP HIM," Amarok barked from behind the two of them, Molaki nearly listening, but instead gathering the fabric of Erest's collar even harder, shaking him.
Molaki was a good soldier. But he was doing what he felt was right, to protect not only his mate, but his Tri Alpha. Amarok didn't see, he couldn't see.
"You're too much of a mouse to act on your own," the white wolf hissed, snapping in Erest's face, so close that one of his canines grazed his cheek.
"That's offensive," drolled his captor, but he didn't protest or deny it.
"LAKI."
It was the final warning from Amarok, and Molaki complied, dropping this prey, who landed in the dirt with a thud on his knees.
"Zylo," he growled, dismissing Erest as he turned around to fully submit to Amarok, dipping his head. "It was Zylo."
