It had been the luck of chance that the spinning knife approached Finn on her left side, else she would not have heard it at all. As it was, she managed to twist away at the last moment,the sharp blade passing so closely that it sheared a lock of fur from her coat. She froze, eyes wide and teeth bared, and what seemed like a shudder traveled across her body, the muscles and fur and bones moving in a sudden pulse. In the speed only capable of a instinctive action, Finn Fidh shifted from Lupus to Secui form and turned towards the source of the weapon.
The wolf was no longer quite the bag of bones she usually was, her lean form now laced with muscle and her mane bristling like spears. Her whole shape sang with bridled violence. It was a curious thing, how such a mild-mannered wolf could change so much over the course of a few seconds, but having spent all her life waging war, she knew the motions of a fight like she knew how to breath. Even curiouser, however, was that the she-wolf’s maw remained fixed in the most tranquil of smiles.
“Hello to you too.” Finn said slowly, staring at the young dog holding the knives. “And what, may I ask, has ruffled your feathers?” As she spoke, Finn’s muscles slowly tensed, her legs gathering beneath her like a spring. She was not ready to go on the offensive just yet, seeing as her opponent was little more than a bairn, but she would have no problem finishing this fight if the pup persisted. Honestly, children these days. In her younger days Finn was as brass as a button, but even she would have hesitated to pick a fight with a wolf as gaunt and battered as herself.
Finn’s eyes briefly flickered to the golden wolf standing aside from the fight. He looked older, perhaps a relative? “Is this your child, sirra?” Finn asked pleasantly, still watching the pup from the corner of her eye. It took discipline to hold so completely still in such a situation. Most wolves would have made some motion to fight or flee by now, but Finn was too used to this, to the threat of violence and the prospect of a fight to get antsy. She stood there, hulking and cool as a cucumber even in her contrary courtesy.
If anything, she hoped to diffuse this mishap with words rather than rend it apart with tooth and claw. Where once Finn would have thrown herself into the fray without a second thought, now she stood firm, reminded all too well by the many scars on her back that sometimes a fight just wasn’t worth the price. She hoped this young creature might realize too, but seeing the anger and disgust wrapped up in a snarl on her little snout, Finn doubted that very much. Her pale eyes narrowed, her breathing slowed, and her limbs tightened to iron bands of tendon and muscle. Let it never be said that Finn Fidh was ever caught unawares.