"Puppy, puppy, puppy," she cooed with false compassion and scratched the wolf-witch into rousing from her impromptu slumber. Soon enough a head was cradled in her lap while long nails ran bright trails along cold flesh, "Little Mudpup, that  beast  tried to take you away from me, but you’re  mine,"  she growled the last, heavy and full of possession, a hand wrapping up into tawny hair to wring a whimper of fear -  pleasure - from low in her throat.