05-10-2009, 05:34 PM
Okay, we have some contrasting writing here. I had assumed that--so that she could get him under the chin--he had to be attacking her face, and that at this point they were both pretty bloody about the snouts, brow, and jawline. If you want me to rewrite so that he was attacking her elsewhere, let me know, otherwise I will assume that it's been mostly facial damage on both sides so far. Also! In the last few sentences, it's important to note that the predator considers the fight in a very primal way, and does not consider skill. Those assurances of its victory at the end are more the culmination of its own predictions than that of the writer, so don't be offended!
The predator's jaws swung wide as the smaller wolf grabbed the flesh beneath its chin. A strange mewling could be heard, as well as odd motions meant to extricate its flesh from her teeth. These were mostly in vain, until it surrendered its pin on its foe and pulled frantically away, breaking free. She had been bloodied worse than it had, her face was smaller, she had been on the bottom, and the lacerations covering her looked worse than the ones covering the beast who even now fought for its meal.
Though it had sought escape, it was not finished. She postured menacingly, but the massive creature was heedless of her warnings. It was still larger, still leading, and still hungry, and it would have the pup, regardless. At this point, it was more than just hunger, it was one wolf telling another that they could not eat; she was not dominant, and its primitive sense of reciprocal behavior was enraged by her actions. It held its head low, the fur all along the rough of its neck standing on end, its torn lips drawn back over two rows of bloodied teeth, vicious eyes stared intently into the pallid gaze of its challenger.
Its approach was slow, measured. Its bulk moved with frightening grace and control, its motion was deliberate and dangerous. It waited until it was close by her to spring forward again, its head turned to the side and its fangs bared to take her legs, its body passing too low over the ground for an attack on its throat or underbelly. It was larger than her by a significant margin, and it knew that she would not be able to hold her ground as it drove forward. Whether she would jump over or skip around and it would need to double back, or if she would try to take a hold of it while it rushed forward, it didn't know. All it knew was that--while she was dangerous and could harm it--she was also smaller, and no more ferocious. She would need to fight harder to avoid being pinned for good and to avoid taking serious damage from its stronger jaws against her weaker body. Sooner or later, like the deer being run down by the pack, she would wear down.
The predator's jaws swung wide as the smaller wolf grabbed the flesh beneath its chin. A strange mewling could be heard, as well as odd motions meant to extricate its flesh from her teeth. These were mostly in vain, until it surrendered its pin on its foe and pulled frantically away, breaking free. She had been bloodied worse than it had, her face was smaller, she had been on the bottom, and the lacerations covering her looked worse than the ones covering the beast who even now fought for its meal.
Though it had sought escape, it was not finished. She postured menacingly, but the massive creature was heedless of her warnings. It was still larger, still leading, and still hungry, and it would have the pup, regardless. At this point, it was more than just hunger, it was one wolf telling another that they could not eat; she was not dominant, and its primitive sense of reciprocal behavior was enraged by her actions. It held its head low, the fur all along the rough of its neck standing on end, its torn lips drawn back over two rows of bloodied teeth, vicious eyes stared intently into the pallid gaze of its challenger.
Its approach was slow, measured. Its bulk moved with frightening grace and control, its motion was deliberate and dangerous. It waited until it was close by her to spring forward again, its head turned to the side and its fangs bared to take her legs, its body passing too low over the ground for an attack on its throat or underbelly. It was larger than her by a significant margin, and it knew that she would not be able to hold her ground as it drove forward. Whether she would jump over or skip around and it would need to double back, or if she would try to take a hold of it while it rushed forward, it didn't know. All it knew was that--while she was dangerous and could harm it--she was also smaller, and no more ferocious. She would need to fight harder to avoid being pinned for good and to avoid taking serious damage from its stronger jaws against her weaker body. Sooner or later, like the deer being run down by the pack, she would wear down.