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ooc: 1) Tried to grab his face |a) Was cut on the shoulder |b) Attacked his face again with claws
The devil drew near with eyes aglow with something akin to lust, a desire for the flesh to be torn, not touched. A fluid of life was sure to expel, one of brilliant rubies more precious than the roaming fodder, coveted for their succulent meats. No lover’s touch was to befall her, only the striking claws of rage and desire for death.
Let it be then…let it be.
Death bore down on her with the slick fangs withdrawn and pressed to tear through her muzzle on first strike. Her retaliation was obvious, ameatuer, her own maw opening to strike forward and catch his lower jaw in a vice grip. To hell with her face, let the scars of war hail and decorate her, commend her for surviving a conflict should this be the will of the Fates. But not even they had control now; she would make her survival. She would escape this place. Had her jaws clasped their target or not mattered little, but the rending of russet fur stuck out in her mind. Pain rushed from the source, a tear at her shoulder coupled from the assault of his maw. Her sibling would have laughed at an obvious move, and howled still that the second born was too clouded to remember. She shifted the whole of her bodice to lessen the weight her pushed on her, keeping her shoulder erect and steady before snatching the appendage away. Successful or not, her hold on his mouth was relinquished, yet she remained near, still standing.
Had she learned nothing in her past?
She had. Anger shown in her moonlit eyes. The female ascended to her hand legs, bearing her weight upon them as she raised her left foreleg and struck down with no restraint behind her blow. Let the limbs move freely, bear down with no hindrance. This was not a spar; life and death hung in the balance, freedom was the ultimate prize. Snarling a promise of defiance for all he could deal upon her, she aimed to cut through his face.
Word Count: 343
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