“Stifle your fear,” was what X’yrin commanded, teeth flashing, and Vesper narrowed her eyes with resolution by the time she’d slipped out of the other’s grip. Once she might have dared to call herself fearless, but the fighters had been different on the other side of the mountains, in the mainland of Canada. She had been young and stupid; fear had crept slowly up on her during her time in Nova Scotia, aging her and conditioning her to be cautious. She knew she couldn’t let it overtake her and she especially couldn’t let her opponent see that they’d made an impact.
The wolf moved again, umber arm jutting out at a shoulder, and Vesper quickly ducked to the side with yet another arm raised as defense in case the motion still followed through. She had to be prepared to shift, however, in case X’yrin decided to grasp or claw her narrow wrists as another subject since she’d raised them to vulnerability.
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