Taken from an exercise on the word Instinctual-
There is a voice under my skin, with fur that is soft to the touch, like velvet between flesh and bone. It holds teeth and claws and the power to tear souls asunder.The voice does not speak in words, her language is primal, a physical nudge, push, pull. The velvet vibrating purring between muscle and sinew, the snarl when someone has over-stepped their boundaries, of which there are many.
But there are moments, which are very few, singular in fact, when the beast uses lips and tongue. And it is in those moments when one should be truly afraid. Her snarl is a warning, her bared teeth a caution, but her words are a promise to the bitter end, only occuring when one probes too deep, questions too far or makes one assumption too many. One assumption alone is too many, a single wrong all it takes for her to open her mouth, huffs a laugh because you are afraid of all of the wrong things, covers a yawn as a primal display of its jaws, and hisses, "No."