She realized that she did not truly want this. The area where his teeth had touched her ached and bled. What if it would result in a scar! That bastard. His weight crushed against her and would have caused her to lose her balance completely had her muscles not been quick to stiffen and keep her standing. She stumbled away and rotated to try biting his side, but he was twisting around, forcing her to find a new target to attack. She saw his claws rise with intention to hurt her and she almost started to flee from the pain that she knew was coming for her. How the fuck dared he! It mattered little to her that she was the one that had started it. He deserved it, that bloody bastard.
She wanted two feet and she wanted her sword. When claws found her form she twisted and tried to toss her large lupus form back at him while trying to use her current position to lash out against his softer areas that had been made more available to her when his claws rose to come for her. Her four legged body was still more alien than not to her, and she knew that she did not have full control of the situation any longer. She was afraid to get maimed more than anything, and that train of thought shocked her more than anything. Scars were beautiful, but she was as well and she did not have any.