They were halfway down the winding path out of town when Fina stopped, suddenly and sharply. Her tail stiffened. Her ears flattened. Her expression dropped all traces of playful flirtation. She looked like a beastkin ready to maul.
Allen turned back, mid-bite into what was left of his pretzel. "Yo, Fina? Did you just hear something, or—?"
"That woman," Fina hissed, her voice low and dark. "That smug, high-breasted, holier-than-everyone bitch. The one with the 'oh no, a beastkin touched the air near me' face."
Allen blinked. "Ohhh. Blondie with the attitude. Yeah, I remember. You're still salty about that?"
"I'm not salty, Allen," she growled, her claws twitching. "I'm furious. She looked at me like I was a disease. Like I didn't belong beside you. Like you were dirty for being with someone like me."
Allen gave her a sidelong smirk. "I mean, technically you are pretty filthy most days."
Fina ignored him. Dead serious now.
