Body pressed low to the ground, teeth bared, the wolf version of Lauralae stares forward at the creature in front of her, tense and uncertain as she keeps herself defended. It's clear that she cannot turn her back to this beast, that she cannot risk what might happen if she relents for even a moment, and above her the raven she calls her own squawks.

Slowly, she moves to the side, eyes gold and searching, stepping. Fur raised, she tilts her head, watching and waiting. She's not inclined to give up but it's clear that she has no intention of attacking either, no matter what Billie might do at the moment.