Though she was able to dish out such insults, Salvia bristled at the term thrown at her. It brought an obvious change in her appearance; black tipped ears rose to a high point, lips pulled back, and all along her spine the fur rose in a terrible rush. Who did this little girl think she was dealing with? The shout only sought to fuel the fire; it was the physical retreat that poured gasoline all over her, setting the tiger ablaze.
She laughed, a terrible barking thing that pulled her lips back further. Salvia took a single stiff-legged step forward. “You’re telling me you’re fully grown?” She hissed, whiskers curling towards her snout. Unbelievable—her laughter rumbled out, an undercurrent of deep growls rising with it. “You’re a freak then, and a rude little one at that. I think I’ll feed you to my cat,” she laughed, and then the laughter ended. The warning had been given.
A snarl erupted from her, for Salvia was not the type who struck silently in the face of an enemy. She hurled herself forward, reaching for the back of the little thing’s neck. She did not intend to snap it yet; she would shake her like a ragdoll and fully enjoy this game. She wanted the bitch to suffer for her insult.
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