The girl had been in charge of her siblings often enough to be a kind of leader from the day she was born. They were a unit - a miniscule pack, seperate to the ranks that the adults organised themselves into. As family the structure was relaxed, but as learning puppies, they needed the experience. They had spent weeks entertaining one another, playing, even roughly, ever since they were small balls of fur and learning the ways of the pack, building a world-view. Especially, honing skills. Their cosy home was never a good place for playful sparring, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. And Legacy had killed, too. Small things, things that were there for her eating, possibly already half-dead to give her a fighting chance. She did not kill dispassionately but it gave her no other pleasure than that instant of satisfaction that was perhaps always there, an unshakeable instinct. Nor was she especially proud, for eating was a talent no one could forgo and for Legacy killing could have no other end.
This was different, rage and violence. It shocked her, so that her limbs felt heavy and wooden even as she made swifter movements than she ever had before in order to avoid that snaking lowered head. He was aiming for her jugular. Though she blocked where she could, the balance was thus: She held him back, placing her weapons before his attacks with all the muster she could, yet feeling his deadly intent pressing her back and she had to dodge sideways again and again to avoid him pushing her into losing her footing. Her skill was more in the dodge than the attack. Her young jaws were hardly strong enough to hold any grip, and to slash at him would be perilous. Her reflexes honed from hours of parrying and dodging innocently with siblings were paying off for the moment. If there was pain from where his teeth managed to reach skin she could not afford to notice, for a recoil could mean the end. But no deadly blow had been struck yet. Indeed it was almost unbelievable that creatures in just the first few months of their life could be strong enough to inflict real hurt, but anything could have been believed of Andre at that moment. And Legacy knew that she couldn't win, even in the mad maelstrom of the scuffle she knew, as a sinking in the pit of her stomach. For he cared not one bit what he did to her and seemed not to care at all, and she cared so much, about many things.
The puppy had been foolish. It was wiser to back away from a madman, to avoid the eye of a murderer. Legacy was no superlative fighter and she probably would never be, at her stature; it was crazy to think she could battle him and beat him through sheer will. Not least because his will was stronger than her own. Now, as if in a flash of clarity from the eyes of her assailant, she realised that her passionate nature would not find resolve through fighting. Her life was worth more than her dignity, and hurt feelings were no reason to face death or at least pain. But such wisdom can be quashed in a moment of heady infuriation. Passionate pride had commanded she prove that she believed in herself and wouldn't lose face before a threat. Now, finding a gap in her resolve to make itself heard, her passion for life demanded she preserve herself. She'd pulled the trigger; the bullet was before her. Could it still be avoided?
In the confusion and peril of their melee it was surprising the world was as sharp and clear as a frosty morning, and even as the golden girl ducked evasively from Andre's onslaught she sighted Endymion in the corner of one eye. Legacy felt her heart leap; she'd forgotten her brother. She loved him all the more for not leaving her as she'd demanded. She had to redeem herself in more ways than one but there wasn't time to think, and of course very few thoughts were running consciously through her mind. Without considering it much, she feinted as if to go one way then all in a split second was darting the other towards Endymion, with the fastest movement she could muster that scuffed up the sand and propelled herself away from the figure of her small opponent. Just one or two strides later, not knowing if he was following or even about to jump on her back she skidded to whip around to half-face the way she'd come as soon as she was almost beside where she'd seen her brother, beginning to crouch reflexively and snarl a warning. It would be two against one, if Endy was with her. The fearsome child with the murder in his eyes surely couldn't come at them both.
