Her heart pace let everything continue to make sense. This woman was born to be a killer, yet she had not activated the genetic madness that could offer her what she had dreamt of for so long. She did not have the time to feel pleased as her foot pounded into him, but he seemed oblivious to it. She had kept her footing this time though, and the sword danced smoothly through the air and tasted the wolf’s face. It was both a pleasant and terrible sound as it softly dug into the wolf like butter, this despite it being nothing more than a smooth whisper. Nostrils flared with the freshly shed molecules dancing through the heating air and her lips drew back further; tasting the madness she should have been able to possess with ease in the back of her throat. It burned hotter than the strongest fire liquid.
Then fear found her at last.
The man’s mighty chest rumbled and she could so easily recognize the fires dancing in the man’s vivid orange orbs. He did not turn and flee. Her sword had continued to stretch out, but the wolf’s face was suddenly very close. Air whistled through her exposed teeth as large teeth snapped after her. He was again unexpectedly quick, but she was quicker. She would have to believe in that. She was a coyote and she would be like lightning. Her arm twisted and she attempted to land her elbow in the man’s face, but her instincts had not been quick enough to avoid sharp edges from ripping through her skin. Again she kicked out; aiming whatever force she could come up with to land at his chest. She needed the distance, could not allow him to remain this close. The sword was on it’s way again; awkwardly slicing for the tip of his front legs--her current aim was so limited as those wolf teeth crunched down at her the way they did.