Ilsa, she-wolf of the S.S. Sigourney Weaver in Working Girl.
All of a sudden, my life became like a Roger Corman movie: Jesse James and the she-wolf of the SS.
The she-wolf was trotting wearily along, her mate well in advance, when she came upon the overhanging, high clay-bank.
In the late whiter and early spring—the love-season—the Hounds will not hunt a she-wolf.
He bellied cautiously inside and was met by a warning snarl from the she-wolf.
And there, out in the snow of their back track, was the she-wolf waiting for him.
And their chopped off right hands were taken to the Capitol and nailed up above the gate, alongside of the she-wolf of metal.
The she-wolf was one leap behind One Ear and holding her own.
Inside the caboose they had reached the third howling of the she-wolf.
Then the she-wolf sat down, pointed her nose at a star, and began to howl.