“Do you have the young wench under your control yet?”
Flynn smacked the white squirrel’s nose in rapid succession until Cyril yelped in pain and scurried away.
“You needn’t have done that,” Cyril rubbed his sore snout, glowering at the warrior cat.
“I won’t abide any disrespect toward Jodie,’ Flynn returned Cyril’s glare, hissing through bared teeth.
“If you’d’ve made our introductions…” Cyril cowered, keeping a wary eye on Flynn.
“Why should I?” Flynn crouched, ready to pounce.
“You’re not the only one with foreknowledge,” Cyril puffed up, feigning bravery.
Flynn stopped short.
“That’s right, I knew her before too.”